LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

OIR'T  OR 


Received 
Accession  No. 


c^r^.  ,  / 


Class  No 


CORONATION 


A   STORY  OF  FOREST  AND   SEA 


By  E.  P.  TENNEY 


BOSTON 
NOYES,  SNOW  AND  COMPANY 

BROMFIELD  STREET 
I877 


COPYRIGHT,  1877,  E.  P.  THNNHY. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


WHEN  I  was  a  boy  I  read  a  book  of  missionary  adven 
tures  in  the  South  Seas.  Night  after  night  I  dreamed  of 

"The  coral  groves,  the  shores  of  conch  and  pearl." 

Midnight  visions  revealed  to  me  the  bottom  of  the  sea, — 
caves  paved  with  beautiful  stones,  bright  colored  shells  and 
growing  coral,  with  walls  and  roof  marked  by  delicate  tints 
of  green  and  blue.  I  often  imagined  myself  among  palm 
groves,  fanned  by  breezes  from  the  sea. 

Three  nights  in  succession,  I  dreamed  of  being  oh  ship 
board  with  a  missionary  bound  to  some  island  parish.  I 
can  never  forget  his  face  as  last  I  saw  it,  and  his  wild 
cry  the  last  time  I  heard  his  voice.  In  calm  weather  the 
ship  sighted  land  in  the  night,  and  drifted  ashore ;  there  was 
no  wind,  but  the  swell  setting  towards  the  land,  was  irresist 
ible.  The  ship,  at  about  midnight,  drove  into  a  cave  three 
or  four  hundred  feet  deep,  breaking  away  parts  of  the  vessel 
against  each  corner  of  the  cave's  mouth  ;  and  then  the  top- 


iv  INTRODUCTORY. 

masts  knocked  the  roof,  and  tore  down  fragments  of  over 
hanging  rock.  No  landing  was  possible  inside  the  cave ; 
black  walls  rose  precipitous  from  the  water.  A  lead  dropped 
astern  showed  twenty  fathoms.  The  surf  at  the  cave's 
mouth  was  phosphorescent,  and  the  breaking  water  all 
around  inside  the  cave  was  shining  out  of  the  darkness,  as 
if  the  margin  of  the  sea  was  on  fire. 

Within  this  circle  of  ill-omened  fire,  and  under  overshad 
owing  darkness  the  rocking  ship  was  slowly  filling  and  sink 
ing.  Some  of  the  passengers  and  crew  were  killed  by  the 
fall  of  rocks  and  timbers.  Others  tried,  after  day  break,  to 
escape  in  the  boats,  but  were  overwhelmed  by  the  waves, 
which  broke  heavily  near  land.  One  boat  load  escaped. 

In  my  dream  I  was  in  the  number  of  the  saved  ;  and  the 
missionary's  son,  a  lad  of  six,  sat  beside  me  ;  but  his  father, 
in  trying  to  reach  the  boat,  suddenly  sank  in  deep  water,  as 
if  drawn  down  by  some  unknown  force.  He  raised  his 
hands,  and  — looking  straight  at  me  — cried,  "Save  my 
son  !  "  The  agonizing  cry  awoke  me. 

I  am  to-day  living  in  a  dream.  I  have  seen  this  mission 
ary's  son  —  Peter  —  come  to  my  house.  It  was  when  I 
lived  in  the  parsonage,  down  the  lane.  Just  such  a  lad  as  I 
saw  in  the  boat  at  the  cave's  mouth !  And  he  is  the  son  of 
a  missionary. 

This  book  is  written  for  the  lad  Peter,  to  tell  him  the 
story  of  the  man  to  whom  he  owes  his  life.  If  I  can  per 
suade  him,— in  his  adopted  home  among  the  crags  of  the 
Cape  within  easy  reach  of  unrivaled  forest  walks  in  the 


INTRODUCTORY.  V 

neighborhood  of  the  sea, —  to  live  much  in  solitudes,  to  cher 
ish  the  very  highest  aims  in  life,  to  be  self-sacrificing,  and  to 
be  diligent  in  doing  solid  work  for  God  and  man,  to  walk 
with  God  as  his  nearest  Friend,  and  to  rely  on  Him  most  of 
all —  I  shall  care  little  whether  any  one  else  reads  the  book 
or  not. 

This  story  is — in  respect  to  its  most  vital  points  —  a 
true  account  of  this  lad's  kinsman,  and  my  most  intimate 
friend.  As  the  years  go  by,  I  shall  less  heed  the  death  of 
him  who  was  my  comrade  in  early  life,  if  I  find  this  child 
Peter  growing  up  with  those  characteristics  which  will  make 
his  life  noble.  And  when  I  myself  go  down  to  sleep  in  the 
silent  valley,  I  shall  not  think  that  I  have  lived  wholly  in 
vain,  if  this  story  of  Cephas  leads  one  human  soul  to  a 
higher  appreciation  of  the  comfort,  spiritual  quickening  and 
power  to  be  gained  by  hours  of  sweet  communion  and  holy 
striving  with  the  Lord,  in  those  closets  which  God  himself 
has  made  in  the  solitudes  of  the  earth. 

Manchester,  Massachusetts,  August, 


CONTENTS. 


I.  Two  BOYS  IN  ONE  CRADLE  ...  i 

II.  THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA      .  9 

III.  THE  NORTH  STAR 25 

IV.  CROOKED  STICKS 46 

V.  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE    ....  60 

VI.  RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD        ...  83 

VII.  THE  FISHING  VILLAGE  ....  102 

VIII.  AN  OLD  RED  TRUNK      .        .        .        .  in 

IX.  WHERE  TO  KEEP  IT        .        .        .        .  121 

X.  STONE  COVE 130 

XL  THE  SHAGBARK 138 

XII.  COLD  SPRING  MEADOW  ....  148 

XIII.  JACK'S  HILL 157 

XIV.  THE  ENGLISH  HELEN      ....  163 


viii  CONTENTS. 

XV.  THE  ESSEX  WOODS         ....  169 

XVI.  A  WALK  TO  NORMAN'S  WOE        .        .  179 

XVII.  SANDY  POINT           -.        ....  191 

XVIII.     OLD  HARBOR 206 

XIX.  AMONG  THE  ISLANDS       ....  220 

XX.  A  WALK  IN  THE  RAIN    .        .        .  234 

XXI.    MORE  RAIN 249 

XXII.    MOUNT  ANNE 261 

XXIII.      MOQUELUMNE    HlLL 27 1 

XXIV.    THE  LIVE  OAKS 284 

XXV.  ERECTING  THE  AIR  CASTLES         .        .  291 

XXVI.  THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK  .        .        .  298 

XXVII.  THE  WORK  LAID  DOWN         .        .        .  312 

XXVIII.  BLACK  HAWK  TO  BOULDER   .        .        .  327 

XXIX.  HOUSE  ISLAND         .        . '       .        .        •  336 

XXX.  THE  OLD  NECK       .        .        .      ".        -346 

XXXI.  ALONE  IN  THE  FOREST  .        .                .  3S2 

XXXII.  THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN    .        .        .  355 

XXXIII.  CORONATION 364 

XXXIV.  THE  BOY  PETER 3^5 


CORONATION. 


I. 

TWO   BOYS   IN   ONE   CRADLE. 

/CEPHAS'  mother  and  my  mother  traded  cradles  in 
I  our  infancy,  so  that  we  were  both  rolled  on  the 
^^  same  rockers.  The  old  shell  was  sold  at  auction 
to  the  almshouse  keeper  when  the  homestead  was  brok 
en  up  ;  of  which  we  were  glad,  thinking  that  we  should 
stand  a  good  chance  to  occupy  that  same  settee-cradle 
again  in  our  second  childhood.  This  infantile  truck 
was  sold  to  my  mother  when  the  mother  of  Cephas 
emigrated,  taking  her  son  to  Nuntundale,  where  they 
staid  till  the  boy  was  thirteen  years  old ;  he  and  I 
never  knowing  all  that  time  how  near  we  were  to  being 
brothers,  so  far  as  our  early  crib  could  make  us  so. 
Meantime  he  had  another  brother  born,  who  ran  away 
from  home  a  little  while  before  Cephas  returned  to 
his  native  village.  After  this,  for  a  few  years,  Cephas 
2 


2  TWO  BOYS  IN  ONE   CRADLE. 

lived  near  neighbor  to  me  till  he  went  away  to  school  to 
make  ready  for  his  life  work. 

In  these  years  of  later  childhood  and  early  youth 
we  stuck  fast  to  each  other,  by  day  and  by  night,  like 
brothers.  Perhaps  he  came  to  my  mother's  house  in 
the  evening,  and  crept  stealthily  in  at  a  back  window, 
as  boys  love  secrecy,  and  then  found  his  way  to  the  attic, 
where  I  had  a  bed  of  boards  on  a  frame ;  and  we  kept 
awake  to  invent  car-axles,  and  to  tell  no  end  of  stories. 
Or,  if  he  left  my  bed  and  board,  I  sought  him  in  the 
early  morning,  as  soon  as  night  gave  place  to  day. 
There  dangled  from  his  window  a  long  string,  whose 
inner  end  was  tied  to  the  great  toe  of  his  right  foot ; 
and  when  I  pulled  he  woke,  and  we  walked.  All  one 
summer  we  tramped  in  the  early  morning. 

A  wild  ravine  just  back  of  his  father's  house,  led  down 
upon  Pennacook  brook,  the  Poor  Farm  interval,  and 
the  world  of  the  Merrimac.  That  river  bottom  with  its 
wide  expanse  of  green  was  our  world  of  foreign  travel ; 
and  we  wandered  at  will,  as  glad  and  full  of  comfort  as 
if  it  had  been  the  Danube,  Nile,  Jordan,  or  Ganges.  As 
we  first  struck  the  borders  of  the  brook,  there  was  just 
before  us,  on  the  right,  a  bluff  crowded  with  towering 
masts  of  pine.  On  the  left,  a  narrow  side  ravine  opened 
with  various  forks,  some  far  reaching,  and  all  walled  in 
by  steep  and  high  banks  clad  with  birch,  hemlock  and 
pine.  Tall  willows,  dome-like  butternuts,  and  high- 
reaching  elms  rose  from  the  bottom  of  these  valleys 
upon  the  margin  of  rivulets,  which,  like  tiny  fingers  of 
the  great  river,  were  reaching  thus  far  inland.  Here  we 


TWO  BOYS  IN  ONE   CRADLE.  3 

made  mud  dams,  built  mills  and  railways,  or  climbed 
the  slopes,  and  gathered  the  leaves  and  red  berries  of 
the  mountain  tea.  The  arms  of  an  aged  oak,  upon  the 
brow  of  a  hill,  became  to  us  a  favorite  resort ;  or,  we  sat 
with  the  squirrels  upon  the  enormous  arms  of  the  great 
oilnut  tree,  our  feet  dangling  over  the  cold  spring  from 
which  we  slaked  our  thirst.  Again,  we  took  the  interval 
path,  and,  in  the  hollow, —  back  of  the  clay  bank 
"  Observatory,"  which  rises  high  above  the  river, —  we 
found  the  old  settlers'  road  all  overgrown.  By  this  route 
we  went  into  sweet  meadows,  trampling  on  the  unmown 
grass  and  gladly  bathing  our  feet  in  the  dew^-till  we 
found  the  quicksand  floor  and  precipitous  sidfv  of  the 
"  Gulf,"  whose  yawning  mouth  had  swallowecpup  many 
fair  acres  of  farm. 

In  autumn,  our  morning  walks  extended  to  the 
"  Sand-banks,"  where  a  horseshoe  curve  revealed  a  vast 
expanse  of  river  bottom,  studded  with  old  elms ;  and 
the  distant  horizon  was  glowing,  upon  all  its  heights, 
with  gorgeous  banners  of  ripe  leaves.  After  heavy 
frosts,  we  ascended  "Rattlesnake,"  climbed  the  big 
trunks  and  arms  of  the  chestnut  and  the  ragged  bodies 
and  smooth  limbs  of  walnuts.  Or,  perhaps,  we  walked 
about  the  shores  of  our  Gennessaret ;  a  sweet  wild  lake 
among  the  hills,  whose  wooded  or  shorn  slopes  —  green 
with  fir  or  grass,  or  yellow  with  corn,  or  red  with  maple 
—  were  fairer  to  us  than  any  child's  dream  of  Gallilee. 

And  we  consecrated  all  these  places  by  prayer,  believ 
ing  that  He  who  loved  us  in  New  Testament  story  still 
loved  us  and  walked  with  us ;  and  we  loved  Him 


4  TWO  BOYS  IN  ONE   CRADLE. 

more  than  we  did  each  other.  And  though,  in  child 
like  planning,  we  thought  it  needful  to  invent  a  new 
language,  the  Maxdecroix,  more  barbarous  and  lawless 
than  that  of  any  savage  tribe,  yet  we  knew,  I  believe,  a 
little  of  the  language  of  a  better  and  far  country,  and  we 
thought  to  use  that  in  any  event.  It  is  only  yesterday 
that  I  revisited  a  blueberry  pasture,  where  among  the 
tall  fruit-bearing  shrubs, —  I  now  know  as  then  I  did 
not, —  Cephas  plead  hard  with  the  Lord  one  day  for  my 
own  upbuilding  in  a  higher  life  ;  and  he  rather  wondered 
when  we  next  met  that  I  did  not  at  once  speak  of  a 
great  change  in  spiritual  experience.  I  am  certain, 
whether  or  not  his  prayers  were  availing,  that  our  talks 
together  as  children  helped  me  much  in  my  attempt  to 
find  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life. 

"  Cephas,"  said  I  one  morning  in  October,  as  I  had 
just  saved  my  neck,  tumbling  out  of  a  low  walnut, 
"  What  do  you  most  care  for  in  this  world  ? " 

"  That  I  may  be  unselfish,"  he  answered,  gathering 
up  his  bag  full  of  nuts. 

"  If  that  be  the  case,"  I  replied,  "  it  will  be  only  fair 
for  us  to  begin  by  going  round  to  Mr.  B.'s  house  to  give 
him  half  our  walnuts.  When  we  steal,  it  ought  to  be  at 
the  halves." 

But  his  conscience,  like  mine  and  like  the  conscience 
of  every  true  New  England  boy,  was  tough  as  a  shag- 
bark  on  this  subject.  We  had  no  scruples  about  carry 
ing  home  our  spoils,  after  first  visiting  Mr.  B.'s  cider 
mill  and  using  two  straws  at  one  bunghole.  As  we 
took  up  the  line  of  march  homeward,  my  companion 


TWO  BOYS  IN  ONE   CRADLE.  5 

turned  to  the  smiling  farmer  B.,  who  was  holding  out  to 
us  both  hands  full  of  red  sweets  fresh  from  the  orchard, 
and  said, — 

"  If  your  boys,  Mr.  B.,  will  come  and  shake  our 
swamp  butternuts  as  thoroughly  as  we  have  your  two 
walnuts  by  the  river,  they  will  be  even  with  us." 

"They'll  do  it,  no  doubt;  I've  trained  them  to  it,"  he 

said  as  he  filled  the  top  of  our  bag  with  apples.     "  This 

is  the  law  in  nutting  time,  to  let  everybody  have  enough 

,  to  keep  his  grinders  busy  till  green  corn  comes  round." 

Then  as  we  walked  through  the  pines  on  our  way 
home,  we  were  again  busy  with  the  thoughts  we  talked 
on  every  day.  For,  every  morning  we  had  new  words  of 
Wisdom  to  exchange  as  mottoes  for  the  day ;  with  every 
morning  light  having  new  light  from  the  Word,  and 
new  hints  how  we  might  open  our  hearts  to  Him,  who 
was  always  knocking  and  seeking  to  abide  with  us. 
And  every  day  we  had  stronger  desires  to  be  of  use  in 
diffusing  light  and  love.  It  seemed,  in  these  early  days, 
that  we  might,  sometime,  go  forward  strongly  in  a  life 
of  devotion  to  God  and  self-sacrifice  for  men ;  but  I  am 
shamed  now  when  I  think  how  Cephas  outstripped  me. 
I  had  as  good  a  chance  as  he  to  make  the  self-surren 
der  perfect. 

"Cephas,"  said  I,  when  the  young  pines,  standing 
thick  and  impenetrable,  were  screening  us  from  the 
house  we  had  left,  "  we  have  come  off  with  double  spoil 
this  morning." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  throwing  away  the  core  of  the 
fourth  purnpkin-sweet,  "  Mr.  B.  is  thoroughly  unselfish  j 
and  I  like  him." 


6  TWO  BOYS  IN  ONE   CRADLE. 

As  we  continued  to  demolish  the  pumpkins,  i( 
appeared  that  the  mind  of  my  companion  was  firmly 
fixed  on  plans  for  doing  good,  which  he  had  begun  to 
pursue,  and  which  he  chased  like  phantoms  all  his  iife. 
In  pursuit  of  them,  he  was  "  mad "  like  Paul,  and 
"  beside  himself  "  like  the  Son  of  Mary.  As  we  talked 
together,  in  a  little  open  space  where  sunshine  and 
shade  mingled  at  our  feet  on  the  carpet  of  yellow  pine- 
needles,  he  drew  out  of  his  pocket  a  little  scrap  of 
paper,  well  worn,  which  he  had  copied  in  the  quaint 
characters  of  the  Maxdecroix,  which  only  he  and  I  could 
read ;  and  I  read,  what  I  have  since  found  to  be  the 
words  of  a  holy  man  of  the  thirteenth  century  : — "  Let 
no  one  rebuke  me  if  love  forces  me  to  go  like  a  mad 
man  !  O  Christ,  in  all  things  thou  showest  only  love, 
never  art  thou  conscious  of  thyself."  And  Cephas 
began  in  that  very  moment  to  hint  of  what  seemed  to 
me  the  wildest  dreams,  and  schemes  impracticable, 
revolutions  which  appeared  to  him  as  fundamental  as 
the  new  ideas  of  Bacon  at  sixteen.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  ever  spoken  so  fully  about  his  aims  in  life ; 
and  I  confess  that  they  made  a  great  impression  upon 
me  as  being  the  very  highest  objects  possible  to  man. 

But  I  grew  drowsy  with  hearing  him,  withal  remem 
bering  our  long  jaunt  and  having  a  slight  sense  of  the 
fulness  which  comes  by  plenty  of  apples  and  new  cider  ; 
and  I  went  to  sleep.  When  I  awoke  my  companion 
was  gone,  and  I  still  kept  my  head  upon  his  nut  bag  for 
a  long  time,  till  he  returned,  looking  certainly  somewhat 
weird  and  strange  to  me  ;  and  after  that,  walking  home 
wards,  scarcely  a  word  was  spoken. 


TWO  BOYS  IN  ONE   CRADLE.  7 

I  noticed  that,  as  the  months  rolled  on,  there  was, 
somehow,  coming  to  be  a  great  gulf  between  us.  Our 
friendship  was  more  intimate  than  ever,  but  a  certain 
chasm  was  widening,  and  I  could  see  that  in  the  interior 
life  he  was  getting  far  away  from  me.  If  he  was  not 
more  and  more  alone,  yet  I  noticed  it  more  that  he  had 
hours  of  solitude  whose  secret  was  not  given  me  ;  and  I 
loved  him  too  much  to  question  him  about  them. 
Sometimes  he  came  to  me  seeming  worn  and  exhausted, 
with  eye  a  little  wild  and  face  haggard.  At  such  times 
he  was  strangely  still,  though  I  could  see  that  he  loved 
to  be  near  me,  and  to  be  quiet  with  me.  When  we  met 
to  walk,  he  appeared,  at  times,  so  full  of  life  and 
unlimited  energy  of  body  and  mind  that  I  was  amazed. 
Sometimes,  I  stood  to  look  at  him,  when  his  eyes  were 
off  me,  to  see  if  I  could  discover  the  secret  of  his 
singular  exaltation.  In  such  moments  he  talked  of  the 
castles  he  was  building;  although  they  were  so  ill 
defined  in  outline  that  I  obtained  little  idea  of  what 
they  really  were,  any  more  than  I  should  have  had  the 
notion  of  a  fair  palace  from  seeing  painted  windows, 
and  ornamental  doors,  and  big  foundation  stones,  and 
pieces  of  statuary,  flying  through  the  sky.  His  own 
boundless  fertility  in  invention,  and  indomitable  reso 
lution  in  daring  to  attempt  what  was  to  me  impossible, 
and  tireless  industry  in  the  painful  steps  between  him 
and  his  objects, —  were  some  of  the  impressions  I 
received  from  his  talks,  as  we  rambled  over  rough  hills 
or  smooth  meadows.  And  if  an  excuse  offered  for  our 
separating  after  such  themes  had  been  up,  he  would 


8  TWO  BOYS  IN   ONE    CRADLE, 

easily  slip  away,  though  for  my  part  I  would  have  had 
company  longer.  Sometimes  I  called  him  the  Wild 
Man ;  but  he  always  retorted  by  calling  me  the  Tame 
Man  ;  so  that  I  did  not  use  the  epithet  often,  although 
I  often  thought  of  it. 

The  next  chapter  relates  one  of  the  dreams  which 
occupied  the  mind  of  boy  and  man. 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA. 


II. 

THE   PHANTOM   OF   TRAGABIGZANDA. 

PATCHED  trowsers  and  a  blue  cotton  umbrella 
paced  up  and  down  a  short  sand  beach  in  the 
rain.  Occasionally  there  came  forth  a  voice  from 
under  the  canopy, — "A  million  might  as  well  be  two." 
By  and  by  the  conclusion  was  reached  that  two  millions 
might  be  four.  Then  before  the  dark  walk  was  fin 
ished,  "  Two  hundred  millions,"  sounded  out  from  the 
cave  of  cotton.  "  Some  old  miser,  like  enough,"  said  I, 
as  I  watched  him  from  under  the  railroad  bridge  near 
by.  I  was  a  stranger  in  Nuntundale  j  and  thinking  this 
a  good  opening  for  adventures  in  a  unique  country,  I 
followed  the  old  fellow  to  his  home.  He  turned  out  to 
be  Cephas,  in  full  vigor  of  youth. 

"  Cephas,"  said  I,  "you  are  a  surprise  to  me." 
We  sat  up  almost  all  night  at  the  open  fire,  —  which 
blazed  or  smouldered  in  his  study  from  Thanksgiving 
to  Fast,  —  doing  as  we  used  to  do.  Our  laughter  made 
his  little  old  house  ring  to  the  rafters ;  while  red  apples 
roasted  themselves  upon  the  hearth,  and  oilnuts  opened 
their  shaggy  shells  for  us. 

When  the  night  was  far  gone,  I  had  found  out  much 


10          THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA. 

of  the  man,  whom  I  had  not  seen  half  a  dozen  times  in 
as  many  years  ;  and  toward  morning  I  looked  with  won 
dering  eyes  on  the  stately  fabric  he  was  working  on  in 
his  afternoon  walk. 

His  schooldays  had  been  so  broken  up  and  shortened 
by  serious  ill-health,  that  he  had  come  into  his  work 
poorly  fitted  for  it.  It  had  been  again  and  again  a 
question  whether  he  would  ever  get  at  any  work  at  all ; 
but  he  had  finally  walked  and  slept  his  way  into  so 
much  physical  vigor  as  to  enable  him,  after  one  or  two 
attempts  elsewhere,  to  begin  the  business  of  experi 
menting  on  the  poor  people  of  Tragabigzanda.  He 
talked  to  them  on  Sundays,  and  went  about  among  their 
homes  on  week-days,  trying  to  do  them  good.  Accord 
ing  to  his  own  account  of  himself,  his  mind  was  raw 
and  undisciplined :  he  was  unskilled  in  the  use  of  lan 
guage,  his  choice  of  words  for  extempore  speech  having 
small  range  ;  and  his  literary  judgment  was  so  poor 
that  great  measure  of  chaff,  considering  the  amount  of 
wheat,  appeared,  when  he  would  fain  mix  the  bread  of 
life  for  his  people  ;  his  ideas  were  so  quaint  that  he  was 
called  queer,  when  he  sought  the  rather  to  be  a  power 
among  men ;  he  had  by  nature  a  style  sufficiently  per 
verse  and  outrageous,  requiring  all  his  leisure  for  years 
to  mend  it ;  the  use  of  his  body  in  preaching  was  sin 
gular  and  sometimes  comical,  and  his  elocution  was  all 
at  sea,  the  voice  being  as  little  under  control  as  the  salt 
waves ;  moreover,  he  was  almost  morbidly  bashful,  and 
so  varying  in  his  feelings  that  it  seemed,  as  he  said,  im 
possible  for  him  to  arrive  at  any  correct  self-knowledge  ; 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA.  II 

his  judgment,  also,  in  parochial  affairs,  greatly  needed 
the  schooling  of  experience.  No  wonder,  thought  Ceph 
as,  that  his  people  gave  him  a  poor  living ;  it  was,  as 
they  both  agreed,  all  that  such  services  were  worth. 

But  he  was,  also, — to  present  him  more  perfectly,  as  I 
must  to  defend  him  against  his  own  self-accusations, — 
a  man  of  great  heart  to  love  his  people  \  kind,  and  un 
failing  in  good  temper  and  genial  humor ;  of  deep  and 
wide  sympathy,  and  consuming  zeal,  delighting  always 
in  self-sacrifice  for  others.  Of  untiring  industry,  he  had 
some  degree  of  originality  as  well  as  quaintness  in  his 
thinking,  and  some  skill  in  the  art  of  putting  things. 
More  than  all  else,  he  was  a  growing  man,  with  amazing 
vitality,  which  could  not  be  quenched,  growing  so  in 
cessantly  that  none  could  prophesy  what  he  might  be. 
And  what  else  there  was  about  him,  in  his  life  purposes, 
and  in  the  spirit  of  the  man,  which  drew  me  more  and 
more  to  him,  and  which  made  him  gain  the  mastery 
over  me,  will  appear.  It  must  be  said,  however,  that 
one  of  the  most  noticeable  traits  in  the  character  of  my 
friend,  at  least  at  this  period  of  his  life,  was  humility, 
and  a  self-depreciation  which  was  in  some  measure  re 
moved  with  the  growing  self-knowledge  of  later  years. 
At  this  time,  his  self-knowledge  seemed  to  be  almost 
wholly  limited  to  a  discernment  of  the  things  in  which 
he  needed  mending,  and  the  ways  in  which  he  could 
best  do  the  mending ;  and  his  purpose  to  do  this  work 
was  always  uppermost  in  his  mind.  To  me  it  appeared 
to  be  the  most  hopeful  and  mentally  healthy  sign  about 
the  man,  that  his  worst  faults  ^found  out,  not  by  my 


12  THE  PHANTOM  OF   TRAGABIGZANDA. 

subsequent  inquiry  among  his  people,  but  from  his  own 
lips,  that  night,  between  bites  at  baldwins  and  butter 
nuts. 

"  But  how  came  I  in  the  ministry,"  he  asked,  "  with 
so  shabby  a  preparation,  even  in  the  partial  course  I 
took  ? " 

"  I  feel  satisfied,"  he  continued,  in  answer  to  his  own 
question,  "  that  no  lad  preparing  for  the  ministry  ought 
to  go  to  school,  even  half  a  dozen  years,  without  more 
drill  in  writing  and  speaking  English,  which  is  the  busi 
ness  he  is  to  follow  all  his  life." 

He  had  been,  it  appeared,  turning  this  topic  in  his 
mind  till  he  had  reached  fixed  notions.  He  believed 
that  the  only  way  to  educate  a  young  man  to  become  a 
writer  and  a  speaker,  is  to  make  the  study  of  the 
English  language  —  its  vocabulary  and  its  models  of 
style  —  and  the  drill  of  writing  and  speaking  far  more 
prominent  in  the  educational  curriculum  than  it  had 
been  in  his  own  schooldays.  I  found  late  in  the  night 
that  I  had  stumbled  upon  a  full-grown  heretic  on  the 
subject  of  the  education  that  is  to  be.  He  had  become 
fully  possessed  with  the  notion  that  his  pet  scheme  was 
the  very  one,  which  would,  some  day,  bring  a  new  era 
of  power  to  the  Christian  church.  While  he  claimed 
that  this  new  educational  machinery  would  work  well 
for  other  pursuits  in  life,  he  especially  insisted  upon  it, 
that  if  one  generation  of  pastors  could  enter  work  after 
a  twelve  years'  course  such  as  he  contemplated,  the 
efficiency  of  the  rank  and  file  of  the  ministry  would  be 
doubled ;  and  that  if  t1/?  scheme  could  gain  firm  foot- 


THE  PHANTOM  OF   TRAGABIGZANDA.  13 

ing,  English  literature  and  oratory  would  at  once  rise 
with  a  power  never  known  before.  This  idea  had  been 
seized  upon  with  all  the  energy  of  his  nature,  and  he 
had  been  planning  in  detail  a  full  course  of  education 
in  various  departments,  to  be  endowed  by  the  million. 
And,  singularly  enough,  he  had  come  to  believe  that 
he  would  personally  see  such  an  enterprise  fairly  set 
afloat ;  and  more  wonderful  yet,  the  ragged  fellow  ex 
pected  to  be  the  founder  of  the  funds  by  which  to 
crowd  the  world  with  the  solid  buildings  of  what  were 
now  merely  educational  castles  in  the  air. 

We  prayed  over  the  business,  covered  the  fire,  rolled 
ourselves  in  blankets  and  lay  down  upon  a  buffalo  skin 
in  front  of  the  chimney's  mouth,  and  were  soon  asleep, 
dreaming  about  several  million  dollars  put  to  the  work 
of  training  generations  of  men,  who  will  write  and 
speak  the  English  language  with  skill  and  effectiveness 
not  yet  seen  except  in  the  visions  of  that  February 
night. 

Month  after  month  passed,  till  June  came ;  but  the 
weeks  seemed  years,  for  I  was  wearily,  and  a  little  impa 
tiently,  candidating  in  such  prominent  pulpits  in  Nun- 
tundale  as  I  could  get  into,  hoping  to  hear  a  loud  call ; 
meantime,  hearing  scarce  a  word  from  the  still  small 
voice  of  the  Holy  One ;  and,  what  at  the  time  I  felt 
worse  about, —  hearing  not  an  invitation  to  appear  a 
second  time,  though  my  candidating  sermon  gave  a 
strong  hint^that  I  desired  it,  bearing  for  its  motto  the 
legend  that  certain  Gentiles  "besought  that  these  words 


14  THE  PHANTOM  OF   TRAGABIGZANDA. 

might  be  preached  to  them  on  the  next  Sabbath."  I 
began  to  wish  that  I  had  been  educated  at  one  of 
Cephas'  colleges,  for  it  came  to  me  a  round  dozen 
times  that  my  voice  was  just  horrid,  and  my  hands  and 
arms  were  mere  elbows  and  thumbs,  and  that  my  style 
of  composition  was  barbarous ;  though  I  was  consid 
ered  eminently  sound  in  the  faith  and  a  man  proper  if 
not  powerful.  I  had  not  seen  much  of  Cephas,  and 
as  I  was  thinking  more  about  a  desirable  parish  than 
about  making  a  desirable  parson,  I  almost  forgot  to  ask 
my  friend  just  how  he  expected  to  found  his  new 
education. 

One  morning,  however,  as  I  took  up  my  kids  and  tall 
hat  and  slender  cane  to  go  to  see  one  more  man  in  my 
place  hunting,  Cephas  asked  me  to  accompany  him  to 
the  Cathedral  Rock,  one  of  the  most  notable  objects  in 
that  part  of  wild  and  wonderful  Nuntundale.  Going 
out  of  his  ample  study,  and  hunting  over  all  the  rest 
of  the  house, —  which  comprised  only  one  room,  the 
kitchen  and  woodshed  combined, —  we  found  two  stout 
sticks,  two  rough  jackets,  and  two  hard  crusts.  We 
then  stood  out  upon  the  big  flat  stone  at  the  front  door, 
and  lifted  up  our  eyes  to  see  the  wide  tracts  of  dark 
silent  woods  through  which  our  morning  tramp  would 
take  us. 

Our  path  led  under  the  great  oak  a  little  below  the 
house,  whose  arms  had  wrestled  with  the  winds  of  more 
than  three  hundred  winters.  Now  it  was  lifting  to  the 
sky  its  myriad  hands  full  of  fresh  leaves ;  calling  upon 
all  who  passed  that  way  to  admire  the  beauty  of  its 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA,          15 

foliage  in  early  summer.  We  entered  directly  upon  a 
by-road,  flanked  with  fallen  walls  of  stone  and  a  wild 
bordering  of  shrubbery  and  small  trees.  Crossing  a 
solitary  plain  of  great  width,  we  came,  upon  low  lands, 
where  our  feet  were  first  embedded  in  mosses,  and  then 
we  sprang  from  one  quaking  tussock  to  another,  till  we 
reached  the  foot  "of  a  sharp  ascent  gemmed  with  flow 
ers.  The  slope  was  crowned  by  a  precipitous  wall  half 
a  hundred  feet  high,  adorned  with  ferns  and  brakes 
growing  in  the  crevices  all  over  its  face ;  green  vines 
clambering  far  up  from  the  bottom  ;  and  above,  sprites 
of  spruce  came  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Going  up  by  a 
watercourse  to  the  right,  we  were  now  in  a  dense  fir 
forest ;  through  whose  thickets  and  dark  paths,  we 
were  to  seek  for  the  sight  and  sound  of  the  sea,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Cape.  I  began,  at  about  this  time, — 
fingering  first  my  gold  chain, —  to  tease  my  friend  upon 
the  way  he  had  used  the  world  in  the  use  of  old 
clothes ;  for  he  looked  too  shabby  to  find  a  place,  if 
any  well-to-do  church  should  ever  hear  his  fame  and 
visit  Tragabigzanda.  I  confess  that  I  had  been  trying 
to  stir  up  in  him  a  spirit  of  rebellion  against  living  in  a 
small  parish,  with  no  prospect  of  money  enough  even 
to  get  out  of  the  Pauline  bachelor  estate,  to  say  nothing 
of  having  the  comforts  of  life.  We  talked  and  walked 
some  miles,  till  we  entered  a  little  opening  in  the  trees 
made  by  a  smooth  ledge  ;  upon  one  side  of  it,  just 
where  the  rock  was  boldest,  we  saw  a  lone  standard  of 
white  pine  rising  high  above  all  other  trees :  this  was 
the  evergreen  tower  Cephas  had  pointed  out  to  me,  as 


1 6          THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA. 

one  of  our  waymarks,  when  we  stood  on  his  flat  door- 
rock.  Seeking  a  shady  place,  we  stretched  ourselves 
upon  the  rock  bed,  and  looked  upwards  to  the  head  of 
the  mast,  just  now  bending  a  little,  as  its  full  topsails 
caught  the  wind. 

"  You  are  not  yourself,"  said  my  friend,  turning  half 
over  and  placing  his  hand  in  mine.  "Your  boyhood 
faith  and  unselfish  purpose  have  been  somehow  lost  in 
these  years  of  our  separation.  Did  you  learn  false 
notions  of  unholy  men  in  the  schools  ?  " 

"  The  school  of  observation  shows  me  that  ministers 
need  to  be  sharp,"  I  answered. 

I  acknowledge  that  the  words  he  read  did  not  sound 
to  me  as  they  did  in  my  childhood  : — "  The  Lord  is  my 
Shepherd,  I  shall  not  want."  I  felt  a  little  like  com 
menting  upon  it,  in  a  spirit  not  full  of  perfect  trust ;  for 
I  remembered  the  pinching  poverty  of  certain  aged 
pastors,  or  their  widows  and  little  ones. 

"When  I  sent  you  without  purse  and  scrip  and  shoes, 
lacked  ye  anything?  And  they  said,  Nothing."  When 
Cephas  read  this  text,  I  said, —  "I  believe  your  own 
experience  will,  some  day,  show  that  you  ought  to  have 
earned  in  youth  a  support  for  old  age.  When  the  Lord 
promises  to  provide,  he  intends  to  provide  by  using 
your  good  sense  in  looking  out  for  yourself.  If  you 
expect  provender  in  later  years,  you  must  use  sound 
judgment  in  making  hay  during  the  sunshine  of  youth 
and  middle  life." 

Cephas  rose  at  once  to  his  feet,  and,  stepping  up  to 
the  big  tree,  put  his  back  against  it,  saying, — "  I  feel  as 


THE  PHANTOM  OF   TRAGABIGZANDA.  17 

though  I  had  the  North  Pole  at  my  back ;  my  backbone 
is  stiffened  by  it.  I  am  of  firm  conviction  that  I  shall 
bless  this  world  with  money  by  the  million,  and  it  is 
my  serious  purpose  to  do  it." 

We  had  come  by  compass  from  the  unnamed  cliff  to 
this  royal  pine ;  and  now  we  entered  an  obscure  trail 
leading  through  low  lands,  and  pushed  on  to  find  our 
noonday  halt.  I  had  not  been  in  such  a  gloomy  forest 
since  the  nights,  when,  as  boys  together,  we  sometimes 
wandered  about  by  moonlight  for  miles  over  the  "  Dark 
Plains."  The  pine  growth  was  so  thick  as  to  shut  out 
the  sun  at  noon,  making  it  twilight  at  midday.  The 
mystery  and  desolation  of  this  wide-spreading  reign  of 
darkness  and  dampness  finally  gave  place  to  a  burnt 
belt,  which  we  crossed,  picking  our  way  amid  tree  stems 
and  shrubs,  scorched  and  blackened.  Sometimes  we 
climbed  upon  an  immense  fallen  trunk  or  mounted  a 
big  boulder,  and  looked  over  the  dreary  landscape  to 
see  where  our  lost  path  ought  to  lie  •  and,  at  last,  our 
vision  was  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  two  low  bald  hills 
in  the  distance,  between  which  we  must  pass.  Finding 
a  flat  rock,  upon  which  two  charred  trunks  had  tumbled 
criss-cross,  we  made  a  fire  and  lunched.  The  sun  was 
hot  enough  to  broil  us,  but  we  were  hungry  and  must 
eat ;  and  my  friend  said  it  was  wicked  to  eat  a  lunch 
out  of  doors  without  a  fire.  So  we  gathered  up 
scorched  wood  enough  to  lay  a  roof  where  the  logs 
crossed  each  other,  and  under  its  black  shade  we 
spread  ourselves  and  our  table,  having  the  fire  to  the 
leeward,  just  near  enough  for  company ;  and  we  threw 

• 


1 8          THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA. 

the  crumbs  of  our  crusts  into  the  jaws  of  the  hungry 
flames. 

"  My  mother,"  said  Cephas,  "  has  an  heirloom  china 
platter  which  cost  eight  dollars  ;  and  it  has  been  in  her 
family  so  long,  that,  if  the  money  had  been  put  at  com 
pound  interest,  it  would  now  amount  to  more  than  six 
ty-five  thousand  dollars  ;  it  is  not  very  old  either.  And 
I  am  a  firm  believer  in  working  miracles  by  compound 
interest." 

"  Ho  !  Ho  !  "  said  I.     "  Here  is  your  college  !  " 

"Exactly,"  he  answered,  not  in  the  least  discon 
certed  by  my  tone. 

And  then  he  went  on  to  tell  me,  how,  when  he  was  a 
boy,  he  had  thought  over  this  compound  interest  busi 
ness  one  summer  morning  in  bed,  the  idea  dawning 
upon  him  with  the  day  dawning;  and  he  then  and 
there  determined  to  found  a  Training  School  for  minis 
ters,  with  a  twelve  years'  course,  in  which,  for  the  whole 
period,  nearly  one-half  the  time  and  energy  should  be 
given  to  drill,  having  for  its  direct  end  the  proper  ex 
pression  of  thought  in  speech  and  writing;  leaving  the 
remainder  of  the  curriculum  well  rounded  in  its  range 
of  studies,  and  not  necessarily  at  variance  with  that  of 
many  schools  now  established :  this  notion  of  develop 
ing  to  the  utmost  the  ability  to  express  thought  was  the 
the  vital  one.  And  he  had  now  fully  elaborated  a  plan 
for  a  university  on  the  same  fundamental  basis:  he 
believing  that  men  in  all  departments  of  life  may  be 
benefited  by  learning  to  express  what  ideas  they  have  ; 
and  that  an  educational  system,  which  makes  this  idea 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA.  19 

more  prominent  than  anything  else,  will  best  meet  the 
wants  of  the  world, —  affording  as  thorough  discipline 
as  any  existing  curriculum,  and  securing  a  far  higher 
degree  of  power  in  using  what  men  know  or  may  come 
to  know.  And  my  friend  was  now  confidently  expect 
ing  that  enough  men  of  good  sense  would  be  found  in 
the  world  to  take  care  of  some  trifling  sum  of  money 
that  he  might  set  apart  for  this  purpose,  which  in  two 
centuries  would  amount  to  a  hundred  million  dollars,  or 
as  much  more  as  might  be  thought  desirable,  if  the 
time  should  be  extended.  He  was  so  fully  persuaded 
of  the  importance  of  the  principle  he  advocated,  that 
it  seemed  to  him  absolutely  certain  to  become  ulti 
mately  the  leading  educational  theory;  while  he  sup 
posed  the  matter  of  one  or  two  centuries,  more  or  less, 
would  be  of  little  account,  if  only  the  idea  should  get 
good  root  upon  this  planet  and  bear  fruit  through  the 
scores  of  thousands  of  years  in  which  Christ's  peace 
will  prevail. 

"Three  hundred  dollars,"  said  Cephas,  soberly,  "will 
in  three  hundred  years  amount  to  more  than  three  hun 
dred  and  fifty  million  dollars." 

And  then  it  flashed  upon  me  that  I  had  heard  that 
sentence  before.  I  remembered  that  he  had  spoken  of 
it  when  we  were  boys  building  saw-mills  in  the  pasture. 
It  was  a  boy-phantom,  now  a  giant, —  a  phantom  still. 

"Educational  reformers  are  as  thick  as  mosquitos 
upon  a  summer's  night,"  said  I  to  myself,  banging 
away  with  a  burnt  club  to  kill  one  winged  insect  whose 
song  at  that  moment  annoyed  my  ear.  "  And  here  is 


20  THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA. 

another  bloodthirsty  wretch  whetting  his  sword  for  an 
attack  on  time-honored  customs." 

I  made,  however,  no  audible  reply  to  Cephas'  arith 
metical  statement,  but  silently  pointed  toward  the  still 
distant  hills. 

When  we  climbed  the  highest  peak,  the  salt  air  greet 
ed  us ;  and  we  looked  down  upon  a  little  beach  and  cove 
lying  close  under  our  feet.  Hardly  half  a  mile  on  the 
other  side  of  the  cove  stood  the  Cathedral  Rock.  The 
bank  of  the  ocean,  at  this  point,  is,  for  a  considerable 
distance,  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.  This  crag 
makes  a  corner  in  the  coast  line ;  presenting  a  square 
side  toward  the  cove  two  hundred  feet  in  length  \  and 
then,  having  made  the  corner,  showing  a  square  front 
of  a  hundred  feet  toward  the  open  sea ;  beyond  it,  the 
bank  falls  away  somewhat,  being  lower  and  less  pre 
cipitous.  The  end  of  the  Cathedral,  which  looks  out 
upon  the  sea,  has  an  arched  doorway  or  entrance,  twen 
ty-five  feet  wide  and  eighty  feet  high,  and  within  it  a 
dark  shadow,  as  if  it  were  a  cave's  mouth.  Upon  the 
long  side  of  the  Cathedral  next  the  cove  is  an  arched 
grotto  a  hundred  feet  wide,  lying  low  as  if  its  base  were 
deep  in  the  sea.  The  top  of  the  Cathedral  is  crowded 
with  fir  trees,  rank  and  green ;  though,  upon  the  very 
verge,  there  are  some  dead  and  white,  with  stems  twist 
ed  and  roots  torn  out  by  old  storms  or  by  the  crumbling 
of  turf  and  rock  on  the  brink.  We  made  quick  time 
down  the  bank,  seized  a  fisherman's  boat  —  throwing 
out  his  lobster  nets  —  and  the  tide  being  low,  we  were 
soon  in  the  cavern,  penetrating  far.  I  was  handling 


THE  PHANTOM  OF   TRAGABIGZANDA.  21 

the  oars ;  and  my  friend  pulled  out  a  roll  of  paper 
from  his  pocket,  saying, — 

"  This  is  my  last  will  and  testament,  which  I  have 
worked  upon  many  months ;  by  which  I  am  to  found 
the  school  that  is  to  be." 

I  splashed  a  little  cold  water  on  him  with  one  oar, 
and  then  jumped  out  of  my  clothes  into  the  freezing 
brine.  The  founder  of  the  college  merely  cooled  his 
head  and  bathed  his  feet.  Then  we  turned  homeward ; 
hurrying  over  the  black  acres,  and  through  the  dark 
pines,  till  we  reached  the  ledge,  from  which,  we  could 
see  the  Tragabigzanda  parsonage.  We  looked  down 
upon  infinite  forest  leaves,  gently  moving  in  the  wind 
and  glittering  in  the  light  of  the  descending  sun. 
Meantime,  I  had  interposed  all  manner  of  objections 
to  Cephas'  educational  project,  only  to  find  him  bear 
ing  me  down  with  a  lofty  enthusiasm,  and  breaking 
through  the  obstacles  I  suggested,  like  an  elephant 
brushing  through  cobwebs.  His  faith  was  firm  and  his 
manner  emphatic.  And  I  soon  found  that  I  might  as 
well  try  to  pour  the  Amazon  through  a  pipe  stern,  as  to 
compress  him  into  what  I  supposed  to  be  the  channel 
of  possibility  and  good  sense.  He  had  anticipated 
every  objection  and  had  an  answer  ready.  He  expect 
ed  difficulties,  and  quoted  the  Bhagvat  Geeta  to  me, — 
"  Every  undertaking  is  involved  in  its  faults  as  the  fire 
in  its  smoke."  My  words  were  against  him  only  like  a 
storm  bombarding  the  rocky  coast.  No  mountain  tow 
ering  out  of  the  sea  seemed  so  grand  to  me,  as  this 
patched  parson  with  his  colossal  ideas.  I  was  walking 


22  THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA. 

by  the  side  of  one  who  believed  that  he  was  to  work  a 
great  revolution  in  the  world.  • 

We  crossed  the  swamp  just  at  nightfall,  and  came  out 
upon  the  plain  in  time  to  look  back  and  see  the  lower 
part  of  the  forest  deepening  shadows,  while  one  or 
two  of  the  highest  elevations  were  touched  with  the 
fires  of  the  setting  sun,  and  glowing  like  watchtowers 
of  the  wilderness.  Before  reaching  home,  we  heard 
the  whippoorwill,  and  we  saw  a  little  meadow  sending 
up  its  mists  after  the  day's  heat.  When  we  again  stood 
upon  the  flat  doorstep,  looking  back  into  the  star-lit 
darkness  toward  the  forest,  I  took  my  friend's  hand, 
saying,— 

"  If  your  plan  is  so  rational  as  you  seem  to  think,  it 
is  probable  that  the  common  sense  of  mankind  will 
find  it  out  and  adopt  it,  before  two  hundred  years  are 
gone." 

And  he  quietly  replied, — "Things  are  looking  that 
way ;  and  it  will  come  about,  I  trust,  within  two  hun 
dred  years." 

After  bread  and  milk,  I  went  out  to  pace  up  and 
down  in  front  of  the  cabin  before  turning  in.  And  I 
thought  to  myself, — "  It  is  certainly  better  to  be  poor 
and  unknown,  and  to  have  a  noble  and  unselfish  aim  in 
life,  even  if  it  is  impracticable,  than  to  live  as  I  do, 
selfish  and  place  hunting  in  the  name  of  God,  and 
contemptible  in  my  own  eyes." 

A  long  while  before  it  was  day,  my  companion 
slipped  away  in  the  darkness ;  but  returned  again  some 
time  after  the  sun  was  up,  with  a  strange  glow  upon  his 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA.          23 

face,  though,  when  his  eyes  were  turned,  I  could  see 
that  some  mighty  agitation  still  left  a  watermark  upon 
his  features.  Then  I  remembered  how  much  he  loved 
to  be  alone,  when  he  was  a  little  child. 

As  the  years  went  by  I  learned  that  this  idea  of  a 
New  Education  was  nourished  in  lonely  walks,  so  that 
the  whole  notion  was  a  true  child  of  the  closet.  This 
pastor  held  in  contempt  places  and  companions,  save 
solitude  and  the  Infinite  God.  But  in  such  place  and 
such  Company,  he  plead  for  a  ministry,  which  would 
prove  better  fitted  to  grapple  with  men.  Stumps  in 
clearings,  and  great  rocks  by  the  sea,  beaches  and 
brooks,  round  backed  or  ragged  hills,  and  quiet  walks, 
were  the  places  where  he  cried  to  God  for  good  sense 
in  setting  on  foot  this  pet  project.  In  the  long  daily 
walks,  or  tramps  of  days  together,  this  phantom  rose 
and  claimed  a  place  in  his  petitions :  and  the  day 
dream  was  tempered  by  the  Word ;  and  it  seemed  the 
more  likely  to  become  real  after  he  had  plead  with  the 
Lord  about  it.  With  such  an  Alliance,  he  appeared  to 
be  impelled  by  a  thousand  forces  for  carrying  forward 
his  purpose. 

I  have  at  hand  many  bits  of  paper  by  which  I  am 
able  to  follow  this  man  into  his  romantic  closets,  in 
which  he  climbed  upward,  as  if 

"  By  invisible  stairs  ascending  and  scaling  the  heavens." 

As  chapels  and  churches  are  sometimes  adorned  with 
man's  highest  art,  so  this  poor  parson  in  his  hours  of 
devotion  was  surrounded  by  visions  of  beauty.  And 


24          THE  PHANTOM  OF  TRAGABIGZANDA. 

these  pictures  pass  before  my  eyes  like  a  panorama  of 
ancient  ascetics  in  holy  hermitage. 

Here  was,  for  example,  a  man  who  sometimes  went 
away  to  a  wooded  island  a  little  distance  off  the  Traga- 
bigzanda  coast,  that  he  might  be  alone  with  God.  He 
would  often  row  strongly  over  a  heavy  sea,  and  get  into 
the  thick  shade  of  oak,  walnut,  cedar  or  pine ;  and 
there  spread  out  before  the  Lord  his  college  papers, 
and  wet  the  rocks  with  his  tears  in  such  agony  of 
prayer  that  he  could  hardly  speak.  Then  he  would 
open  his  Bible  under  those  leaves  dripping  with  salt 
spray,  and  look  at  it,  as  if  in  the  face  of  the  sun,  till 
his  darkness  gave  place  to  heavenly  light.  And  whether 
or  not  his  prayers  availed  for  others,  they  were  an 
swered  in  himself,  and  there  was  certainly  one  minister 
who  received  a  new  education.  It  was  mental  agitation 
of  this  sort  which  gave  him  constant  freshness  of  feel 
ing,  and  new  plans  for  usefulness,  and  a  new  life  upon  a 
higher  plane  ;  so  that  he  was  always  ascending. 

The  most  beautiful  vision  which  my  friend  saw  in  all 
these  days,  was  that  Castle  in  the  Air  he  was  building. 
Whether  he  was  threading  the  forests,  looking  out  from 
the  hills,  floating  on  the  waves,  pacing  the  beach, 
tramping  the  deep  snow  or  lying  down  in  it,  hidden  in 
a  storm,  or  traveling  across  the  country  against  the 
northwest  wind  on  a  heavy  crust, —  he  was  looking  for 
this  fairy  palace  rising  from  its  foundations  and  sharply 
figured  against  a  summer  or  winter  sky. 


THE   NORTH  STAR.  25 


III. 

THE   NORTH    STAR. 

THE  lonely  house  of  the  Tragabigzanda  parson 
was  my  tying  up  place  for  some  weeks.  During 
this  time  I  was  so  occupied  here  and  there,  that 
I  did  not  fairly  unearth  another  of  the  peculiar  here 
sies  of  my  friend  till  one  evening,  in  this  wise.  The 
west  wind  had  been  bringing  heat  from  the  interior 
down  to  the  coast  all  day,  and  I  had  hardly  ventured 
out  of  the  house.  But  when,  toward  night,  I  looked 
out  upon  the  cool  shadow  of  the  old  oak  upon  the 
green  grass,  I  took  ^Eschylus  from  the  study  table,  and 
sought  the  shelter  of  those  long  arms,  which  were 
stretching  out  on  every  side  of  the  great  standard  like 
the  beams  or  rafters  of  a  vast  hall.  Reading  aloud,  I 
had  come  upon  the  eighty-fifth  line  of  Prometheus, — 

*         "  the  strange  portent  of  the  talking  oaks," 

when  I  heard  a  voice  from  the  tree  tops. — 

"You  will  get  cold  from  the   dewfall,  if  you  don't 

look  out." 

And  then  a  moment  after, — "  Look  out !  "  and  down 

came   a  rubber  blanket,   with — "Spread   that   under 

^  OF 


26  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

you."  And  then,  in  a  moment  more,  I  saw  Cephas 
coming  down  a  rope  by  hand  from  his  lofty  study  in 
the  top  of  the  tree. 

"  You  would  go,"  said  he,  as  he  touched  ground,  "  a 
thousand  miles  to  see  a  man  spin  himself  down  a  thou 
sand  feet  of  precipice,  uncoiling  the  rope  from  his  own 
bowels.  Look  then  at  a  spider  lowering  himself  from 
the  limb  of  a  tree  to  the  earth." 

Lying  upon  our  backs  we  punched  each  other's  ribs 
with  every  new  joke,  till  one  by  one  the  stars  over  our 
heads  were  all  in  place.  Then  my  companion  turned 
to  me  soberly,  asking, — 

"  Do  you  see  the  North  Star  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  what  it  means  to  me  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Let  me  tell  you,  then.  You  remember  I  took  a 
short  trip  to  California  after  leaving  the  seminary.  I 
landed  on  a  winter  evening,  and  made  at  once  for  a 
Presbyterian  church  to  whose  pastor  I  had  a  letter  of 
introduction.  It  was  the  night  of  his  prayer-meeting, 
and  to  it  I  went.  There  was  a  big  sand  hill  close  by 
the  meeting-house,  reaching  half  way  to  the  eaves ;  and 
I  rilled  my  shoes  with  sand  climbing  up  its  soft 
sides  before  going  into  the  meeting.  I  kneeled  upon  its 
summit,  thanking  God  for  safe  carriage  over  the  seas, 
and  there  consecrated  myself  to  God's  service  in  Cali 
fornia.  As  I  looked  up,  I  saw  that  the  firmament,  in 
this  clear  atmosphere,  was  nearer  than  ever  before. 
And  I  took  the  near  North  Star  as  witness  to  my  dedi- 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  27 

cation  to  the  work  on  that  coast.  But  serious  sickness 
soon  compelled  me  to  return  home.  I  consoled  my 
self,  however,  with  the  thought  that  I  should  speedily 
go  back.  It  is  still  my  leading  purpose  to  go  as  soon 
as  I  can.  Night  after  night,  the  North  Star  reminds 
me  of  my  vow. 

And  then  he  told  me  how  he  first  asserted  his  pur 
pose  to  become  a  missionary  at  three  years  old,  before 
he  could  speak  the  long  word  plainly.  His  mother,  he 
said,  led  him,  from  his  earliest  memory,  to  believe  that 
he  was  God's  child,  that  he  must  have  no  will  of  his 
own,  but  always  ask  his  Heavenly  Father  what  to  do, 
and  then  do  it  unflinchingly.  He  had  once  thought  of 
being  a  foreign  missionary;  but  concluded  he  was 
better  fitted  for  the  home  work,  in  which  he  supposed 
it  possible  to  deny  himself  as  much,  and  to  work  as 
hard,  as  if  he  were  to  go  among  pagans. 

Whether  or  not  I  failed  to  appreciate  my  friend's 
mission  zeal  I  do  not  now  remember.  I  recollect,  how 
ever,  that  it  was  quite  early  when  he  proposed  to  hang 
up  for  the  night.  Seizing  his  knotted  rope,  he  swung 
himself  upon  one  of  the  big  branches  of  the  oak,  and 
pulled  a  hammock  from  a  high  pocket  in  the  trunk,  and 
I  was  soon  suspended  in  it  from  two  contorted  boughs. 
Cephas  made  a  bed-chamber  of  his  study,  high  up  the 
trie  tree,  sleeping  securely  in  an  old  comforter  upon  the 
board  floor.  I  could  not  help  screwing  my  head  around 
to  see  whether  I  was  in  range  of  the  North  Star,  lest  I 
should  be  made  mad  by  it.  I  saw  it  eyeing  me  sharply. 

"This   North   Star,"  said   I   to   myself,    "I  always 


28  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

thought  a  sober  reality ;  but  ten  to  one  it  is  only  a 
phantom,  belonging  to  this  Tragabigzanda  parson. 
The  great  bear  is  only  a  wild  goose  he  is  chasing  over 
the  earth  and  through  the  heavens." 

I  recalled  to  mind  that  when  Cephas  and  I  were 
boys  together,  he  was  full  of  wild  missionary  projects ; 
which  was  one  reason  why  I  called  him  the  Wild  Man. 

I  was  waked  by  the  twittering  of  birds  at  daybreak ; 
and  when  the  sun  shot  his  beams  over  the  horizon,  I 
turned  out  of  bed.  It  was  quite  late  when  my  friend 
came  down  from  his  roost.  He  found  me  bending  over 
the  well-curb,  looking  at  the  picture  on  the  surface  of 
the  water, —  blue  sky  and  maple  branch  and  my  face, 
and  around  the  border,  the  reflected  circle  of  moss- 
covered  stones.  I  was  wishing  a  white  cloud  would 
sail  over  my  deep  mirror  to  perfect  the  view.  The  first 
intimation  I  had  that  Cephas  was  up  was  the  appear 
ance  of  his  face  in  the  bottom  of  the  well  as  he  bent 
over  the  curb  opposite  me. 

"  Good  morning,  merman,"  said  I,  without  looking 
up. 

"  Good  morning,"  answered  the  apparition  ;  and  by 
his  skill  in  ventriloquism  the  voice  seemed  to  come  from 
the  depths  below.  The  next  instant  the  fall  of  a 
pebble  upon  the  smooth  face  of  our  morning  mirror 
dashed  it  into  pieces,  and  the  circles  had  it  their  own 
way  after  that. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  I  asked,  "  that  bit  of  meadow 
where  the  mist  hung,  on  the  evening  of  our  return  from 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  29 

the  Cathedral  ?     That  is  the  place  where  I  want  to  go 
this  afternoon,  to  follow  up  the  brook." 

"  Go  this  morning,"  he  answered.  "  Do  you  not 
know  enough  about  woods  to  walk  in  the  morning  in 
hot  weather  ?  They  are  always  cool  in  the  first  part  of 
the  day  ;  but  when  the  heat  once  gets  in,  just  after 
noon,  it  .is  sweltering  hot,  sometimes  worse  than  outside, 
for  there  is  no  air  stirring." 

"How  about  your  studies?  "  said  I. 

"Never  you  fear.  I've  worked  three  hours  this 
morning,  while  you  were  combing  your  hair  into  my 
well." 

After  eating  a  crusty,  bachelor  breakfast,  we  walked 
through  a  sparse  growth  of  low  pitch  pines  half  a  mile 
toward  the  unseen  brook.  We  first  heard  it  rippling 
over  its  uneven  bed,  and  then  saw  it  flashing  in  the 
sunlight.  Our  ramble  led  us  through  a  grove  of  red 
maples  ;  then  into  the  sweet  and  flowery  meadow,  where 
nature  had  raised  grass  for  many  centuries,  never  dis 
turbed  by  the  haymakers.  Entering  the  wood  again, 
we  had  to  clamber  up  a  steep  bank,  down  which  the 
roaring  brook  came  in  short  cascades,  with  little  pools, 
and  quick  water  between  them.  Here  the  growth  was 
beech.  The  trees  on  the  upland  reached  high,  and 
there  was  little  underbrush.  One  venerable  trunk, 
growing  upon  a  platform  of  broken  ledge  somewhat 
higher  than  the  average  ground,  had  so  worked  its 
roots  as  to  get  into  rich  soil,  and  the  branches  which 
rose  above  the  tops  of  the  other  trees  reached  out  into 
the  genial  sunlight  on  every  side;  those  arms  were 


30  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

noticeably  long  which  had  right  of  way  over  the  brook. 
A  secret  spring  was  pouring  its  precious  drops  down 
the  ledge,  through  the  brakes  and  mosses  which  almost 
concealed  the  jagged  forms  of  the  rocks;  and  at  the 
foot  of  the  shattered  ledge  the  waters  were  dark  and 
deep. 

As  we  came  up,  I  saw  a  trout  leap  ;  but  it  was  too 
early  to  think  of  dinner,  and  we  had  no  great  liking 
to  trout  four  hours  out  of  the  water.  Taking  a  book 
from  my  pocket,  I  secured  a  good  position,  not  to  read 
but  to  watch  the  play  of  the  fishes,  while  Cephas  should 
study  a  little  more  on  his  next  Sunday's  sermon.  Sev 
eral  arms  of  the  beech  had  interlocked  and  grown  into 
each  other,  after  the  manner  of  the  tree,  and  at  two  or 
three  points  presented  fair  seats  to  cross-legged  clergy 
men*.  The  Tragabigzanda  parson  crossed  his  legs 
where  two  branches  crossed  another  at  a  favorable 
angle,  so  near  the  body  of  the  tree  that  he  could  lean 
his  back  against  its  smooth  bark;  and  he  seemed  so 
much  at  home  that  I  believed  he  had  been  there  before. 
Becoming  greatly  excited  in  my  business  of  feeding  the 
fishes,  I  did  not  much  notice  the  occasional  half  sup 
pressed  grunting  sounds  that  came  down  from  the  tree, 
as  fragments  of  sermon  were,  one  after  another,  pulled 
out  of  the  parson's  pocket,  and  run  over,  to  see  whether 
they  could  be  inserted  into  the  mosaic  he  was  compos 
ing.  But  he  evidently  became  excited  at  the  very 
moment  I  did.  The  spotted  side  of  an  unusually  large 
trout  was  flashing  on  the  surface  of  the  pool,  when  a 
voice  came  very  emphatically  out  of  the  tree, — "  Who- 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  31 

soever  will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your 
servant."  And  this  comment :  —  "  The  Christian  ideal 
is  a  life  of  unthanked  self-denial  for  the  sake  of  others." 

I  looked  up,  but  the  reader  seemed  to  have  spoken 
out  unconsciously,  and  I  said  nothing.  I  saw  no  more 
flies  or  fish.  What  Cephas  said,  I  had  once  expressed 
in  substance  in  one  of  my  sermons ;  and  it  evidently 
made  a  good  impression.  I  had  thought  of  it  as  an 
elevated  sentiment,  not  as  a  rule  of  life.  There  was 
something  in  Cephas'  tone  which  made  me  think  that 
he  believed  it  should  be  reduced  to  practice. 

Following  up  the  stream  in  all  its  capricious  wind 
ings,  we  talked,  hardly  hearing  the  gurgling  of  the 
waters  among  old  roots  under  the  bank,  or  the  rush  of 
the  current  over  beds  of  gravel  and  polished  ledges. 
Once  more  I  put  in  the  suggestion,  always  in  my  mind, 
that  a  man  of  so  much  ability  as  I  really  believed 
Cephas  to  be  at  bottom  ought  to  look  about  among 
vacant  pulpits  to  find  a  fit  sphere.  I  wished  that  the 
elements  of  power  in  him  could  be  developed  in  an 
appreciative  parish.  But  I  did  not  say .  much.  His 
whole  nature  was  aroused,  and  no  mountain  stream 
ever  swept  on  so  irresistibly  as  he. 

"'Lean  hard  toward  the  side  of  self-sacrifice,'  was 
my  mother's  motto,"  said  Cephas,  taking  my  arm,  and 
coming  to  a  halt  in  the  narrow  trail.  "  Mission  work  is 
the  noblest  work  now  in  the  world.  Burmah  is  better 
than  Boston,  according  to  Dr.  Judson.  And  I  would 
rather  be  in  China  or  New  Zealand  than  in  Chicago  or 
New  York,  unless  it  be  true  that  the  paganism  of  our 


32  THE  NORTH  STAR, 

great  cities  is  worse  than  that  of  far  countries.  The 
home  missionary  work  in  our  western  territories  certain 
ly  offers  more  honorable  service  than  any  other  part  of 
this  country;  for  there  only  is  it  possible  to  lay  the 
foundations  of  many  generations." 

"I  hope,"  said  I,  "that  you  prize  your  mental  gifts 
too  highly  to  throw  away  your  life  in  work  that  some 
one  else  can  do  as  well  as  you.  This  living  in  the  sad 
dle,  and  devoting  one's  life  to  the  petty  details  of  new 
organizations  can  be  done  by  those  not  fitted  like  your 
self  to  be  a  great  light  in  the  golden  candlestick  which 
illuminates  the  east." 

"  I  would  invoke  a  curse,"  he  replied,  "upon  the  man 
who  makes  his  studies  an  excuse,  as  William  Farel 
cursed  Calvin  if  he  should  put  his  studies  between  him 
and  God's  call  to  Geneva." 

Then  we  trudged  along,  the  Wild  Man  still  talking 
strangely:  — 

"  I  would  throw  up  my  studies  any  hour  if  God  would 
plant  me  in  Japan.  But  there  is  no  need  to  quit  study 
ing.  The  greatest  mental  power  in  this  world  will  find 
practical  problems  to  grapple  with  in  pagan  lands  or  in 
our  home  missionary  work.  There  is  need  of  all  the 
intellectual  acumen  that  can  be  mustered.  The 
courses  of  studies  to  be  pursued  will  give  full  swing  to 
the  best  minds  on  the  planet.  Paul  was  not  too  much 
of  a  man  to  be  a  missionary." 

And  he  went  on  in  breathless  haste  to  rehearse  the 
stale  arguments  I  had  heard  in  the  seminary  by  Home 
and  Foreign  Secretaries  beating  up  recruits. 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  33 

He  said  that  his  daily  prayer  was  one  with  thai  of 
the  missionary  in  the  far  East,  who  desired  that  the 
Lord,  in  mercy  to  our  theological  seminaries,  would 
take  one-half  of  all  who  yearly  enter  the  ministry,  and 
by  His  Spirit  drive  them  into  the  wilderness.  I  went 
to  thinking  of  something  else,  letting  Cephas  talk  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter.  I  merely  remember  that  he 
spoke  of  it  as  the  glory  of  service  in  our  border  states 
and  territories  that  a  man  could  study  as  much  as  he 
pleased,  and,  besides  taking  care  of  his  immediate  par 
ish,  could  have  to  do  with  establishing  the  first  educa 
tional  systems  in  a  new  country,  and  do  a  great  variety 
of  work  upbuilding  church  and  state.  He  believed 
that  a  handful  of  men  of  ability  and  good  judgment  and 
iron  will  and  great  spiritual  power,  could  easily  shape 
all  things  according  to  their  Lord's  will. 

Coining  to  a  halt  and  sitting  upon  a  fallen  pine  trunk 
whose  sap  had  decayed  leaving  the'  great  heart  still 
sound,  Cephas  turned  to  me,  and  read  from  his  pocket 
Testament,  the  ideal  of  a  good  ministry, —  "  To  preach 
the  gospel  in  the  regions  beyond  you,  and  not  to  boast 
in  another  man's  line  of  things  made  ready  to  our 
hand." 

As  we  still  walked,  it  was  more  and  more  apparent 
that  a  consuming  passion  for  life  in  the  border  country 
had  full  possession  of  him. 

"If,"  said  he,  "a  few  persons,  having  the  same 
mind  with  the  Lord  Jesus,  will  go  out  into  some  almost 
empty  section  of  the  continent,  when  the  tide  of  immi 
gration  is  pouring  into  it,  they  can  take  no  inconsidera- 
3 


34  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

ble  part  of  the  globe  and  manipulate  it  with  hard 
hands,  and  lift  over  it  the  hands  of  prayer,  and  prepare 
the  way  of  the  Lord.  The  frontiers  of  society  can  be 
moulded  for  Christ  by  Christ-like  men.  In  a  little 
while,  this  work  of  being  first  in  the  field  will  be  all 
over.  Generations  to  come  will  have  no  such  chance 
as  we,  to  do  these  first  things.  To  have  lived  in  this 
missionary  era  of  the  church  will  be  always  'an  rio'nork'- 
ble  fame.  But  what  should  I  say,  if  in  such  a  time  as 
this,  I  should  lie  down  and  seek  my  own  ease  ? " 

I  saw  that  he  was  strongly  moved,  for  tears  came  into 
his  eyes  as  he  was  speaking,  and  the  tones  of  his  voice 
were  such  that  I  could  not  trifle  with  him  or  refuse  to 
hear  him.  There  was  much  more  of  the  same  sort. 

But  he  came  to  a  sudden  stand-still.  We  had  now 
reached  an  open  space  in  the  wood,  where  a  birch 
drooped  over  a  still  pool  of  the  brook,  and  a  heavy 
grapevine  climbing  over  it  had  formed  an  arbor.  At 
high-water  mark  were  small  blocks  of  stone,  which  had 
been  washed  and  scoured  by  the  stream  every  spring 
time.  In  full  career  as  a  western  preacher,  Cephas 
stopped  j  and,  first  eyeing  the  sun,  put  on  his  coat,  took 
a  pin  from  the  lap,  drew  a  fine  line  from  his  pocket, 
and  directly  drew  out  of  the  pool  two  trout  for  our 
dinner.  We  cooked  them  in  an  oven  of  heated  stones. 
Just  as  we  finished  the  last  potato,  I  opened  the  after 
noon's  business  by  asking, — 

"  How  comes  it  that  you  are  here  eating  fish,  when 
you  ought  to  be  beyond  the  Sierra  eating,  or  being 
eaten  by,  grizzlies  ?  " 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  35 

"Well,  sir,  to  be  frank  with  you,"  answered  the  old 
Californian,  "  it  is  not  my  own  fault,  except  that  I  am  a 
queer  chicken.  Says  my  deacon,  *  Parson,  we  are  all 
curls  bugs.'  Now  this  is  the  only  reason  I  am  not  on 
the  Pacific  coast.  I  preached  over  here  in  Shad  Village 
near  Pine  Cove,  for  a  year  after  I  came  home  from  the 
West;  and  then  I  talked  with  the  Home  Missionary 
Society  about  going  back,  and  was  encouraged  to  be 
ready.  I  gave  up  my  parish,  boxed  my  goods,  marked 
them  San  Francisco,  and  bade  my  friends  farewell  on  a 
Monday  expecting  to  sail  on  Saturday,  when  I  was 
suddenly  dropped.  Why,  I  never  knew,  till  my  recent 
correspondence  with  western  friends  shows  that  in  my 
short  residence  on  the  Pacific  slope,  some  of  the  wiser 
brethren  were  impressed  with  the  notion  that  I  had 
more  zeal  than  discretion,  and  that  my  eccentricities, 
growing  out  of  me  like  the  burr  of  a  chestnut,  were  not 
calculated  to  help  my  usefulness.  At  least,  this  is  all  I 
can  find  out ;  and  my  conference  with  the  Home  Mis 
sion  Secretaries  rather  confirmed  them  in  the  informa 
tion  they  had  from  the  distant  coast.  And  I  feel 
confident  that  this  decision  is  wise.  I  am  raw,  and  my 
judgment  is  not  good.  I  am  branded  by  nature  with  a 
repulsive  queer  streak  I  can  never  be  rid  of,  which, 
however,  I  am  always  trying  to  subdue.  And  I  am 
now  living  in  full  hope  that  some  day  I'll  be  civilized 
enough  to  become  a  home  missionary.  As  I  am  now, 
it  would  be  too  bad  to  turn  me  loose  on  the  new 
communities  of  the  great  and  growing  West.  What 
have  they  done  to  deserve  such  an  infliction  ?" 


36  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

"  Enough,  stop  there,"  I  cried,  punching  my  friend 
with  a  burnt  stick.  "  I  think  with  all  your  missionary 
zeal,  you  are  excusable  if  you  stay  at  home." 

We  had  a  little  merriment  over  this  defeat  of  the 
great  emigration  scheme.  Still,  he  was  planning  to  go  ; 
bound  to  go,  on  his  own  hook,  in  due  time.  He  had 
been  held  back,  and  was  likely  to  be,  by  poverty.  He 
preached  for  almost  nothing ;  and  if  he  had  anything 
he  gave  it  away  as  soon  as  he  could.  But  unbound 
ed  faith  had  he,  that  he  would  sometime  serve  on 
the  Pacific  coast.  The  North  Star  might  dodge  about 
the  heavens  here  and  there,  but  he  was  fixed.  Persist 
ent  as  the  Millerites,  he  made  no  fuss  if  he  did  not 
succeed  ;  he  merely  made  a  new  plan.  He  would  in 
his  own  mind  appoint  a  time  when  he  would  be  off,  as 
if  this  surely  would  be  the  time  all  the  holy  prophets 
had  agreed  on;  when  the  day  had  passed,  he  would 
appoint  another,  and  then  another,  and  so  on,  mean 
while  minding  his  work.  And,  according  to  his  own 
account,  he  had  enough  to  attend  to. 

"  My  school  days,"  said  he,  "  were  so  short,  and  my 
mind  is  so  ill-disciplined,  and  so  meanly  furnished,  that 
I  would  gladly  live  in  obscure  parishes  here  and  there 
till  my  studies  are  in  better  condition." 

"My  dear  Cephas,"  I  replied,  "you  are  chasing  a 
phantom  with  a  vengeance ;  and  you  are  a  Wild  Man 
to  follow  it  longer.  The  Lord  does  not  want  you  in 
California.  You  fly  in  the  face  of  Providence.  He 
almost  killed  you,  or  rather  left  you  to  nearly  kill  your 
self,  when  you  were  there ;  but  mercifully  spared  you 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  37 

to  get  home.  And  then  He  stirred  up  prudent  breth 
ren  and  sagacious  Secretaries  to  keep  you  from  a 
foolish  attempt  to  return.  Now  if  you  are  a  wise  man, 
you  will  stay  here  and  mind  your  business.  Your 
business  is  to  study.  And  if  you  ever  know  anything, 
and  can  say  it,  you  will  be  useful.  But  you  already 
know  enough  to  earn  a  fair  living ;  and  you  ought  to 
know  enough  to  get  it.  '  Tie  your  camel  and  commit 
it  to  God,'  said  Mahomet.  You  say  you  trust  God  for 
bread  and  butter ;  but  you  must  have  good  sense  about 
common  things,  or  you  will  starve.  Do  you  not  know 
that  the  very  way  in  which  God  feeds  his  own,  is  to 
make  them  turn  to  and  help  themselves  ?  You  are  not 
helping  those  miserable  Tragabigzandarians  much  by 
living  in  rags  and  upon  cold  victuals.  They  can  pay 
you  liberally,  and  they  ought  to  do  it;  and  it  is  your 
duty  as  their  minister  to  train  them  into  the  Christian 
grace  of  liberality.  If  you  were  among  a  people  hope 
lessly  poor,  I  would  not  say  a  word.  As  it  is,  you  ought 
to  get  more  money  out  of  them,  or  to  clear  out.  The 
world  is  wide,  and  it  is  your  duty  in  some  honest  way 
to  get  money  enough  to  pay  your  debts,  and  to  have  a 
home  of  your  own.  You  are  doing  as  much  work  and 
as  good  as  many  a  man  with  more  pay.  I  am  all 
out  of  patience  with  you,"  I  said,  placing  my  hand 
upon  his  shoulder  and  looking  into  his  eyes ;"  and  if 
you  don't  knock  the  North  Star  out  of  your  evening 
sky,  it  will  turn  into  a  comet  and  lead  you  nobody 
knows  where,  but  far  enough  away  from  your  duty,  I'll 
warrant." 


38  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

Cephas  hereupon  whistled ;  and  pointed  me  to  a 
woodchuck  sitting  at  the  mouth  of  his  hole,  into  which 
the  creature  dove  instanter  as  I  looked  that  way. 

"  He  is  a  lean-looking  chap,"  said  I.  "  He  must  be 
a  parson." 

"  He  will  be  fat  enough  next  fall.  I  have  no  doubt 
he  is  cared  for  by  Providence,"  answered  my  friend. 

And  then, —  to  shorten  up  our  long  talk, —  Cephas 
tried  to  prove  to  me  that  if  God  cared  only  for  those 
who  have  good  sense,  nine-tenths  of  the  world  would 
starve. 

"They  do,"  I  asserted. 

On  the  matter  of  training  old  parishes  to  liberality, 
Cephas  turned  on  me  saying, — "  You  are  just  the  chap 
to  make  these  mean  Yankees  pay  more ;  and  if  there 
is  more  to  be  had,  you'll  get  it  out  of  them.  And  there 
are  so  many  men  of  just  your  cut,  that  I  have  no  fear 
but  the  job  will  be  done.  As  for  me,  I  am  going  to 
stand  by  the  North  Star.  If  I  have  not  grit  enough  to 
become  a  home  missionary  in  spite  of  sickness  and 
timid  friends,  I  ought  to  move  into  that  woodchuck's 
hole  and  stay  with  him.  And  I  propose  to  do  it.  If  I 
can't  handle  my  body  so  as  to  keep  well,  I  will  burrow 
with  these  healthy  creatures  of  the  forest.  And  if  I 
can't  knock  myself  into  some  shape,  so  as  to  have  good 
sense,  some  day,  in  managing  money,  then  I  will  turn 
fox  and  live  on  geese.  But  if  the  Lord  ever  gives 
wisdom  to  those  who  ask  it,  and  seek  it,  as  he  has 
promised  to  do,  then  I  am  bound  to  have  it,  first  or 
last.  And  as  surely  as  the  pointers  in  the  Dipper  are 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  39 

always  aiming  at  the  Polar  Star,  I'll  keep  on  aiming  to 
do  home  missionary  work  on  the  border,  whether  or 
not  the  Lord  ever  lets  me  go.  I  will  live  or  die  point 
ing  that  way." 

And  he  went  on  to  reason  that  the  best  thing  he 
could  do  would  be  to  plan  to  achieve  something, 
whether  or  not  he  should  ever  have  the  chance.  He 
believed  that  God  had  actually  taken  men,  as  contempt 
ible  as  he,  and  made  good  use  of  them  when  they  had 
once  given  themselves  willingly  into  His  hands.  And 
he  could,  therefore,  see  nothing  wild  in  calmly  prepar 
ing  day  by  day  for  a  life  work  in  helping  to  lay  the 
foundations  in  new  countries.  His  educational  phan 
tom;  so  far  from  occupying  any  considerable  part  of  his 
attention,  was,  I  found,  merely  one  incident  in  this 
grand  aim  to  do  missionary  work.  He  thought,  indeed, 
that  such  a  scheme  might  be  tried  in  a  fair  field,  where 
all  experiments  have  equal  chance ;  but  it  was  not  a 
hobby.  If  Cephas  was  fond  of  riding  hobbies,  he  had, 
not  one,  but  a  whole  stable  full  of  them. 

We  had  long  since  turned  off  the  main  stream,  and 
followed  up  a  little  rivulet,  M'hich  was  now  constantly 
eluding  our  sight,  though  we  heard  its  splashing  on  the 
rocks  underground.  We  traced  it  to  its  head,  in  a  cool 
fountain  under  a  great  rock  near  the  crest  of  the  hill. 
No  sooner  had  we  passed  it,  than  we  heard  the  faint 
roar  of  a  distant  torrent  down  the  ravine  we  were  about 
to  descend.  But  when  we  stood  by  its  tumultuous 
waters,  amid  all  the  uproar,  I  stood  looking  at  my 
friend.  The  sparkling  light  on  the  dancing  waves  did 


40  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

not  attract  me  so  much  as  he.  For  I  knew  that  he  was 
chafing  like  a  giant  in  chains,  eager  to  get  away  from 
his  beautiful  home  by  the  sea.  In  these  enchanting 
forest  paths  he  was  like  a  war-horse,  waiting  the  sound 
of  the  charge.  And  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  he 
had  a  great  object  to  live  for,  and  that  his  unselfishness 
was  leading  him  to  have  the  very  highest  aims  in  life. 

The  heat  was  now  great,  according  to  the  promise  of 
my  comrade,  should  we  stay  in  the  woods  all  day. 

"  I  see  a  shower  coming,"  said  Cephas. 

"  Where  away  ?  "  I  asked. 

And  he  drew  my  attention  to  a  peculiar  nestling  in 
the  foliage ;  pointing  to  certain  trembling  leaves,  and 
the  slight  nodding  of  tall  plumes  of  brake  by  the  brook- 
side,  although  the  sky  was  clear. 

Our  route  had  been  circuitous,  and  the  nearest  way 
homeward  was  to  follow  the  swift  waters.  The  banks 
were  steep,  and  we  were  often  wading  from  one  side  to 
the  other ;  much  of  the  time  we  walked  apart,  and 
sometimes  the  stream  divided  us.  Once  it  so  hap 
pened,  that,  I  on  the  one  side  and  he  on  the  other,  each 
concluded  to  cross  and  walk  on  the  other  side  ;  we  met 
accordingly  on  a  slippery  rock,  whose  flat  head  kept 
above  the  water.  I  took  this  opportunity  to  deliver  to 
Cephas  a  small  oration  I  had  been  composing. 

"  Cephas." 

"What?" 

"  The  Greeks,"  I  said,  "  peopled  the  margins  of  the 
world,  north,  south  and  west,  with  peculiarly  favored 
beings  ;  while  nearer  at  hand  were  monstrous  giants 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  \\ 

and  terrifying  objects.  Ever  far  off  do  we  look  for 
pleasures,  while  at  home  we  struggle  with  want  and 
vexations." 

"You  can  not  blame  me,  therefore,"  he  answered, 
"  if  I  go  west  while  you  go  east.  You  stay  at  home 
with  the  bugbears,  and  I'll  seek  the  distant  paradise." 

Twenty  minutes  later,  climbing  in  Indian  file  up  a 
steep  place  to  avoid  a  mass  of  fallen  trees  and  old  drift 
on  the  bank,  I  being  in  advance  ran  my  head  into  an 
enormous  spider's  web.  I  caught  the  spinner  and  flung 
him  on  his  own  thread  toward  Cephas,  who  was  looking 
at  my  face  through  the  silky  net  into  which  I  had 
thrust  it. 

'  Do  you  remember,  Cephas,  Dean  Swift's  saying, 
that,  '  It  is  a  miserable  thing  to  live  in  suspense ;  it  is 
the  life  of  a  spider  ?'  Now,  I  wish  you  were  either  here 
or  in  California ;  but  this  life  of  hanging  between  this 
and  that  must  be  miserable." 

He  took  the  spider,  and  put  it  into  a  pill  box,  as  if 
his  old  house  at  home  had  not  vermin  enough  in  it 
already  ;  and  answered, — 

"  Spiders  are  the  most  industrious  creatures  alive ; 
and  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  they  appear  to  enjoy  life 
at  least  as  well  as  the  flies  which  get  caught  in  their 
webs." 

And  he  pointed  to  my  face,  with  fragments  of  spider's 
yarn  still  sticking  to  my  mustache. 

As  we  walked,  I  thought  how  hope  deferred  maketh 
the  heart  sick  ;  and  in  truth  I  was  tired  of  candidating, 
and  wished  I  had  something  definite  in  view,  even  if  it 

^   0?  THS        ^V 

"  «-»  «•    »  IT  «H  •?*;    ft  V  m  M V 


42  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

was  to  emigrate  to  the  South  Seas.  Week  after  week, 
and  month  after  month,  had  brought  me  no  nearer 
to  a  settlement.  Amid  the  finest  natural  scenery,  I 
could  not  forget  my  unrest.  I  began  to  look  upon 
Cephas  as  a  happy  man ;  only  I  did  not  see  how 
he  could  have  the  heart  to  work  so  like  a  Trojan  for 
the  Tragabigzandites,  when  his  heart  went  missionary- 
ing.  But  when  I  questioned  him  and  his  people,  I  had 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  his  distant  schemes  made 
him  any  less  useful  in  his  ordinary  work.  Pie  was, 
rather,  like  a  warrior  of  ancient  Rome,  strengthened 
for  common  conflict  by  frequent  practice  in  very  heavy 
armor.  His  hope  that  he  might  some  day  benefit  a 
large  section  of  the  globe,  and  his  plans  for  it,  made 
him  carry  well  and  with  ease  the  affairs  of  his  parish. 
So  a  brook  gets  ready  to  run  with  the  river  by  running 
hard  as  it  can  so  soon  as  it  is  born. 

We  came  now  to  the  junction  of  the  brook  and  the 
river.  An  aged  willow  reached  a  long  arm  across  the 
forest  stream  at  the  very  place  where  it  joined  the  tide 
water.  Upon  the  strong  branch,  half-way  over  the 
brook's  mouth,  I  saw  that  a  card  had  been  tacked  with 
willow  pins,  by  some  former  visitant.  Running  out  to 
read  it,  I  found,  in  the  original  Maxdecroix  character, 
the  text, —  "  He  that  believeth  shall  not  make  haste." 
And  as  I  was  still  looking  at  my  friend's  chirography, 
I  heard  his  voice  behind  me  on  the  branch,  saying, — 

"  Keep  cool.  Don't  fret.  I'll  show  you  how  to  keep 
cool." 

And  I  turned  just  in  time  to  see  his  form  splash  in 
the  deep  water  below.  I  followed  suit  without  suit. 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  43 

It  was  evident  enough  that  there  would  be  a  shower ; 
and  as  we  did  not  care  to  get  wet  twice,  we  made  for 
a  headland  seaward,  which  was  holding  up  an  extended 
assortment  of  longhandled,  wide-spreading,  thick-cov 
ered,  hemlock  umbrellas.  The  white  tops  of  the  thun 
der  heads,  and  the  blue  rifts  between  them,  still  made 
the  sky  bright,  while  the  earth  was  growing  dark.  The 
leaves  of  the  scrub  oaks  on  the  side  of  the  hill  were 
twisting  in  the  wind,  and  a  low  moaning  sound  came 
from  the  direction  of  the  forest.  From  the  highest 
pinnacle  of  the  crag  by  the  sea  we  watched  the  gather 
ing  tempest.  Looking  over  the  wooded  country,  we 
could  see  how  much  the  undulations  of  the  forest  are 
like  the  motions  of  the  waves  when  agitated  by  strong 
tides  and  fierce  winds.  The  roaring  of  the  wood  grew 
louder  and  louder.  The  violent  swaying  of  the  tallest 
tree-tops ;  the  fitful  '  then  steady  bending  of  a  white 
birch  grove  near  us,  with  now  and  then  torn  leaves 
flying  on  the  wind ;  and  the  bowing  almost  to  the 
ground  of  a  tall  slender  elm  in  the  pasture, —  prepared 
us  for  a  crash  and  bolt  of  fire.  We  watched  the 
shadow  of  the  clouds  on  the  sea,  and  one  dark  belt  of 
rain  pouring  into  the  deep.  Cephas  drew  a  tragedy 
out  of  my  pocket,  and  read  about  the  storm  that  over 
whelmed  Prometheus : — 

"  The  earth  shakes  to  and  fro, 
And  the  loud  thunder's  voice 
Bellows  hard  by,  and  blaze 
The  flashing  levin-fires ; 
And  tempests  whirl  the  dust, 


44  THE  NORTH  STAR. 

And  gusts  of  all  wild  winds 
On  one  another  leap, 
In  wild  conflicting  blasts, 
And  sky  with  sea  is  blent." 

We  had  no  occasion  to  seek  shelter ;  the  outermost 
bounds  of  the  rain  cloud  scarcely  covering  us.  First 
waiting  to  see  the  rainbow  sink  into  the  sea,  and  the 
"  floating  fleeces,  precious  with  the  gold  of  heaven," 
lose  all  color,  and  the  sea  itself  put  on  its  night-robe 
gathered  from  the  east,  we  then  turned  homeward. 
One  bird  was  still  flying  alone  over  the  bitter  waves, 
solitary  as  a  man  of  great  purpose.  When  we  ap 
proached  Cephas'  homely  home,  I  thought  it  more 
homelike.  Its  rugged  exterior  and  rough  inside  seemed 
fit  for  a  man,  who  with  fine  natural  tastes  lived -only 
to  deny  himself  for  the  sake  of  others. 

When  I  looked  at  the  North  Star  before  going 
to  sleep,  it  did  not  seem  so  weird  to  me  as  the  night 
before  in  my  hammock ;  and  I  was  in  less  fear  of  being 
struck  mad  by  it.  And  since  my  ability  to  identify  the 
heavenly  bodies  was  limited  to  the  Moon  and  the 
Dipper  and  the  Polar  Star,  I  was  rather  glad  to  have  a 
new  idea  associated  with  this  particular  star;  that 
whenever  I  should  look  up  from  a  sidewalk,  or  peer  out 
of  a  rail  car  window,  and  see  it,  I  should  think  of  it  as 
uttering  a  voice  louder  than  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

"Young  man,  had  you  not  better  do  your  candidating 
in  the  service  of  the  Home  Missionary  Society  ?" 

I  awoke  once  in  the  night,  and  heard  Cephas  talking 
in  his  sleep.  He  seemed  to  be  still  wandering  in  the 


THE  NORTH  STAR.  45 

woods  in  the  darkness.     And  he  said, — "The  birds  are 
quiet;  but  I  hear  the  brook  singing  songs  at  midnight." 

There  was  a  long  row  of  enormous  button  woods  by 
the  roadside  upon  a  little  elevation  at  some  distance 
from  Cephas'  house,  where  he  was  accustomed  to  walk 
up  and  down  by  the  hour  together  in  the  evenings, — 
often  when  the  boughs  were  threshing  in  a  heavy  gale, 
or  again  on  balmy  summer  nights  under  full  moonlight ; 
and  the  invocations  which  here  mingled  with  the  crash 
of  the  tempest  or  rose  in  the  still  air  of  June,  were 
almost  invariably  for  the  border  country.  His  mission 
ary  plans  were  little  known  to  his  people.  .  And  the 
secret  yet  full  and  powerful  life  he  was  always  leading 
in  this  respect,  as  well  as  in  some  others,  has  seemed 
to  me  not  unlike  certain  solitary  streams,  deep,  wide 
and  swift,  which  run  unseen  through  vast  and  unfre 
quented  forests.  So  wide  and  varied  was  this  man's 
nature,  that  whole  courses  of  life  might  thrive  in  its 
secret  places, —  and  his  neighbors  might  touch  him  and 
know  him  only  on  that  side  in  which  he  was  like  them. 


46  CROOKED  STICKS. 


IV. 

CROOKED   STICKS. 

IT  WOULD  be  hardly  fair  to  my  readers,  if  I  were  to 
remove  them  from  the  Tragabigzanda  country, 
without  asking  them  to  trace  certain  steps  which 
Cephas  and  I  took  one  day  for  the  purpose  of  looking 
up  some  of  the  queer  sticks  growing  in  this  forest  town 
ship.  While  there  is  considerable  cleared  land,  yet 
most  of  the  high  hills,  narrow  swamps  and  broad  plains 
are  concealed  by  pine,  hemlock,  cedar,  maple,  oak,  ash 
and  elm,  with  a  liberal  allowance  of  sprout-land.  The 
coast  line  is  made  up  of  a  river  mouth,  with  no  mean 
harbor  •  three  miles  of  sand  beach ;  one  large  marsh 
with  its  creek  ;  one  deep  cove ;  and  two  grand  head 
lands,  connected  with  each  other  by  a  rocky  rampart 
half  a  mile  long,  and  forty  to  seventy  feet  high  from  the 
water's  edge.  The  forest  is  almost  everywhere,  extend 
ing  to  the  shores  of  the  sea  as  well  as  far  inland.  In 
this  heavily  timbered  town  there  are  plenty  of  odd 
sticks.  I  saw  a  cane  in  the  jamb  of  Cephas'  big  fire 
place,  which  in  growing  made  so  many  sharp  angles  that 
he  had  cut  it  as  a  memento  of  the  "crooked  sticks" 
among  his  parishioners. 


CROOKED  STICKS.  47 

Taking  this  stick  in  his  hand  Cephas  and  I  set  out  to 
traverse  the  town.  We  came  first  to  the  old  parsonage, 
now  long  vacant.  The  house  was  built  like  a  harrow, 
with  a  large  square  head-piece  remote  from  the  street 
and  two  wings  making  out  toward  the  highway.  The 
opening  of  the  harrow  contained  a  well  with  long  sweep 
and  oaken  bucket,  half  concealed  by  a  clump  of  rock- 
maples.  One  leg  of  the  harrow  was  sixty  feet,  the  other 
forty.  The  width  of  each  wing  was  about  twenty  feet. 
These  wings  were  one  story ;  the  main  part  of  the 
house,  at  the  intersection  of  the  wings,  was  two  stories. 
The  long  ell  contained  kitchen,  woodshed  and  outbuild 
ings,  with  a  pig  pen  on  the  extreme  end  near  the  street, 
although  this  deformity  was  dexterously  hidden  by  a 
thick  hemlock  hedge  twenty  feet  high.  The  short  ell 
was  the  parson's  study.  Dining-room  and  parlor  were 
upon  the  first  floor  of  the  main  house  ;  with  windows 
looking  upon  the  harbor  and  sea.  A  cupola  sur 
mounted  the  chambers,  and  in  its  turn  was  mounted 
by  a  brass  angel  blowing  his  trumpet  against  the 
wind  from  whatever  quarter.  The  angel  was  poised 
over  the  porch,  which  stood  in  the  angle  made  by  the 
two  wings.  Winding  stairs  ascended  from  the  porch. 
We  climbed  in  at  a  shed  window  and  explored.  I 
found  one  of  the  parson's  sermons  on  an  upper  shelf 
of  the  study  closet.  It  was  black  with  dust;  but  I 
shook  it  and  tucked  it  in  my  pocket.  The  outlook  from 
the  house,  on  the  side  next  the  sea  was  very  extended, 
embracing  twenty  miles  of  coast  line.  The  cupola  view 
inland,  outside  the  village,  revealed  nothing  but  woods. 


48  CROOKED  STICKS. 

We  went  into  the  room  where  the  last  occupant,  half 
mad,  used  to  raise  his  windows  on  Sabbath  mornings, 
and  pray  in  a  stentorian  voice  for  his  enemies,  when 
they  were  going  to  the  house  of  God,  whither  he  never 
went  in  his  last  days  of  alienation  from  his  people.  He 
had  been  a  man  of  considerable  force  of  intellect.  But 
he  happened  to  be  the  last  minister  settled  in  the  old 
method  "by  the  town."  Long  before  his  death  the 
people  became  dissatisfied  with  this  way  of  supporting 
their  pastor ;  and  the  ungodly  delighted  to  vex  his 
righteous  soul.  The  crooked  sticks  cumbered  his  path, 
and  at  last  tripped  him  up.  I  have,  within  a  few  days, 
read  in  their  town  records  the  story  of  his  trials.  They 
had,  it  seems,  agreed  at  the  first  to  pay  him  a  small 
salary,  and  take  up  for  him  "  two  generous  contribu 
tions  "  each  year.  In  the  major  part  of  his  life  all  went 
well ;  but  in  later  years  things  grew  worse  and  worse. 
Pastor  and  people  did  not  get  on  together. 

He  was  crooked,  and  they  were  crooked.  Minute 
matters  were  magnified.  In  the  particular  year  in 
which  he  resigned,  the  town  agreed  to  repair  the  par 
sonage  fence.  The  contributions  were  small ;  the  salary 
lagged ;  and  half  the  fence  was  rotten.  He  wrote  to 
the  selectmen  about  it.  They  answered,  in  substance, 
that  they  would  pay  the  arrears  of  the  salary  sometime, 
as  they  paid  their  other  debts ;  and  that  the  contribu 
tions  were  "  generous,"  inasmuch  as  anything  was 
generous  which  was  given  as  a  gratuity  where  no  equiv 
alent  was  rendered ;  and  that,  as  to  repairing  the  fence, 
one  Mr.  Dow  had  worked  half  a  day  in  patching  it,  and 


CROOKED  STICKS.  49 

this  fulfilled  their  agreement  about  repairing,  for  they 
did  not  say  how  much  they  would  mend  it.  In  the 
ecclesiastical  council  at  which  he  was  dismissed,  the 
most  serious  charge  preferred  against  him  was  that  he 
had  lied.  It  seems  that  he  had  related  to  some  of  his 
best  gossips,  certain  adventures  he  met  with  in  a  neigh 
boring  town,  where  he  went  to  exchange.  He  said  that 
he  slept  little,  because  "bed  bugs  as  big  as  horses" 
kept  running  over  him  all  night. 

When  he  was  about  to  die,  he  requested  to  be  buried 
as  he  had  lived,  that  is,  "crossed."  He  was  buried 
crosswise  of  the  graveyard  ;  and  there  is  no  monument. 
So,  if  we  may  believe  the  sexton,  who  had  a  particular 
spite  against  him  ;  and  who  has  lately  confessed,  that  he 
dared  obey  the  old  man's  wish,  in  place  of  the  direction 
given  by  the  conductor  of  the  funeral.  That  there 
is  no  monument,  is  little  creditable  to  the  church  ;  for 
he  was  an  excellent  pastor  before  his  head  went  wrong. 

After  leaving  the  parsonage,  we  passed  the  meeting 
house,  standing  in  the  midst  of  an  old  graveyard,  and 
then  crossed  the  river.  Entering  the  woods  upon  a  well 
traveled  road  we  came  in  about  a  mile  to  a  clearing;  in 
which  there  nestled  a  low  cottage,  once  wearing  paint 
but  now  weather-worn,  with  mossy  roof  and  swallows' 
nests  under  the  eaves. 

"Good  morning,  Peter,"  said  Cephas  to  the  simple 
minded  philosopher,  who  made  this  his  home,  as  we 
caught  a  glimpse  of  him  perambulating  his  pasture 
among  rocks  and  bushes. 

Pete  came  to  a  stand-still,  and,  leaning  over  the  wall, 


50  CROOKED  STICKS, 

told  us  in  half  a  whisper  that  he  had  just  returned  from 
his  annual  visit  to  the  neighboring  city  Teatown,  and 
that  after  turning  so  many  corners  of  brick,  he  had  to 
walk  all  day  upon  his  farm  to  get  the  kinks  taken  out 
of  him. 

Leaving  the  road  we  climbed  a  ridge  on  the  right, 
and  within  half  an  hour  approached  the  great  salt 
marsh.  Here  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  we  found  bare 
footed  Old  Butternuts  —  so  called  —  long  bearded,  gray 
and  grizzly.  He  lived  in  an  oil  cask,  with  a  fragment 
of  glass  over  the  bung-hole  for  a  window.  His  nest  was 
lined  with  clover,  and  he  was  just  crawling  out  when  we 
came  in  sight.  Without  apparently  noticing  us,  he  went 
to  a  cold  spring  near  by,  thrust  his  head  into  it,  and 
then  shook  his  shaggy  locks  like  a  spaniel.  It  was  a 
delightful  nook  where  he  camped,  amid  half  a  dozen 
gigantic  elms  upon  a  little  knoll,  close  under  the  well 
wooded  bluff  from  which  we  had  approached.  In  front 
was  the  green  marsh,  to  the  right  the  blue  sea ;  and 
between  the  mouth  of  the  creek  and  the  mouth  cf  the 
river  the  long  beach.  Old  Butternuts  lived  by  his  gun, 
fish  line  and  clam  fork,  and  by  hunting  among  farms 
and  gardens  on  moonlight  nights.  Upon  dark  and 
stormy  evenings  he  made  for  hen  roosts,  visiting  a 
cfrcuit  of  six  or  eight  miles.  When  it  came  winter  he 
merely  rolled  his  barrel  into  the  woods,  and  lodged 
it  in  a  corner  between  protecting  ledges.  If  the  thicket 
was  not  close  enough,  his  axe  soon  made  the  den  warm 
with  strips  of  hemlock  bark  and  boughs  of  spruce. 
The  day  we  saw  him,  he  was  greatly  amused,  it  being 


CROOKED  STICKS.  51 

early  October,  by  the  removal  of  two  or  three  wealthy 
families  who  had  spent  the  summer  on  the  shore. 
They  were  hastening  to  the  city,  leaving  some  of  the 
most  delightful  days  of  the  year  to  shine  on  their  empty 
houses.  He  called  it  the  early  flight  of  the  tame  geese  ; 
so  early,  we  should  have  a  hard  winter. 

Pointing  to  his  double-barreled  gun,  I  asked, — 

"  What  do  you  do  with  that  ?  " 

"I  keep  that  to  shoot  home  missionaries  with. 
There  ain't  a  sin  under  heaven  but  they'll  stand  up  for 
it  by  divine  right." 

Yet  Old  Butternuts  was  a  religious  man  in  his  way. 
He  was  always  observed  upon  the  Sabbath,  sitting  bare 
headed  under  a  tree,  at  the  usual  time  of  church 
service.  And  those  who  have  stood  watch  at  the  hour 
of  slumber,  say  that  when  he  goes  to  sleep  he  first 
prays,— 

"Keep  me  to-night,  God;  and  free  the  slaves. 
And  may  I  wake  up  early  to  plunder  pro-slavery  barns 
and  farms." 

"  Do  you  raise  such  pagans  on  this  coast  ? "  I  asked 
of  Cephas,  as  we  moved  forward. 

"  No,  he  is  a  returned  Californian ;  and  my  main 
reason  for  wanting  to  go  to  Frisco  is  to  get  the  Vigi 
lance  Committee  to  hang  such  rascals,  so  they  can't 
come  here  to  contaminate  my  parish.  He  has  taught 
half  the  young  men  in  this  precinct  to  gamble,  and 
cheated  them  out  of  their  dollars ;  which,  it  is  said,  he 
hides  away  in  a  squirrel's  nest. 

We  dined  that  day  with  Tom  Parsnip,  a  small  farmer 


52  CROOKED  STICKS. 

over  the  creek,  just  beyond  the  cranberry  meadow,  on 
the  left  of  the  road  up  shore.  His  better  half  was  hard 
of  hearing  ;  and,  after  we  came  into  the  house,  we  over 
heard  Tom  saying  in  a  loud  voice,- — 

"  Sarah !  I  say,  Sarah !  put  more  water  in  the  soup. 
We'll  have  company." 

The  soup  was  good,  and  would  have  borne  more 
water.  This  woman  Sarah  was  a  widow  at  the  time 
Tom  married  her.  Parsnip  was  a  little  modest  about 
doing  his  own  courting ;  and  he  had  employed  his 
neighbor  James  Raikes  to  go  over  to  Beanville  to  pop 
the  question  for  him. 

In  consideration  of  his  success  Raikes  received  three 
acres  of  pasture.  And  the  gift  had  proved  a  singular 
means  of  grace  to  him. 

"  See  how  rank  the  tufts  of  grass  grow  in  the  middle 
of  this  swamp,"  said  Cephas,  as  we  were  walking 
through  the  lot.  "This  is  a  cow  trap.  Raikes  is 
so  crooked  that  he  could  not  get  along  with  his  neigh 
bors  in  ecclesiastical  affairs.  Three  years  ago  he 
'signed  off  from  the  parish,  to  which  he  had  been 
giving  five  dollars  a  year.  But  sometime  after,  standing 
one  day  where  we  do  now,  he  saw  the  horns  of  his  best 
cow  sticking  up  out  of  the  middle  of  this  bog.  And  he 
ran  into  the  house,  exclaiming,  to  his  wife,  — 

'I  am  goin'  to'jine  the  perish  agin  quick  as  I  can. 
Ole  Brindle  is  sunk.' 

"  But  he  was  so  angry  again,  within  a  twelve,  months, 
that  he  'signed  off'  once  more.  He  did  not  think, 
however,  to  fence  in  this  hole  till  another  cow  went 


CROOKED  STICKS.  53 

down ;  and  then  he  put  up  these  rails,  and  vowed  to 
join  the  parish,  and  stick  to  it  as  long  as  he  should  live. 
He  looks  upon  the  parish  as  an  insurance  company, 
securing  him  against  the  Divine  wrath  in  this  life.  And 
it  is  cheap  at  five  dollars  a  year." 

The  great  object  of  our  day's  excursion  was  to  find 
Johnny  Norwegian,  whose  rambling  along  shore  gave 
him  many  homes,  and  whom  I  afterwards  found  on 
Cape  Anne.  Here  he  was  in  a  walnut  grove,  near  a 
cleft  in  the  ledge  which  kept  back  the  sea  ;  we  heard 
the  tide  roaring  in  the  long  chasm  under  ground  as  we 
came  up.  He  was  taking  cunners  out  of  an  old  canvas 
bag, —  so  long  out  of  water  as  to  be  smelt, —  and  put 
ting  them  into  a  kettle  to  boil.  This  was  on  a  Monday, 
and  John  never  went  fishing  Monday  because  the 
women  were  all  washing,  and  all  water  was  troubled  as 
if  the  devil  was  in  it.  His  house,  about  seven  feet  cube, 
was  built  two-thirds  under  ground  in  the  lee  of  a  large 
stone  block  left  by  ancient  glacier.  With  slabs  and  turf 
he  had  quite  a  comfortable  shelter.  We  found  a  Bible 
in  the  cabin,  but  he  hardly  needed  to  open  it,  for  he  had 
it  all  at  his  tongue's  end.  I  hardly  ever  met  a  man  who 
knew  so  much  text  as  he. 

It  was  near  nightfall,  and  we  made  short  stay. 
Before  we  left,  Cephas  told  John  that  I  was  a  minister. 
He  took  my  hand,  saying, — 

"  Good-bye.  Remember  what  old  Johnny  tells  you. 
If  you  want  to  set  the  coal  in  your  parish  on  fire,  don't 
spend  the  greater  part  of  your  time  in  trying  to  kindle 
the  cinders.5' 


54  CROOKED  STICKS. 

Cephas  said  that  the  hermit  was  a  member  of  his 
congregation.  Afterwards  I  often  saw  him  in  the  meet 
ing  house  at  Manchester.  He  sat  in  one  corner  of  the 
gallery,  with  hat  band  full  of  flowers,  clothes  tattered, 
patched,  and  girded  with  a  red  wampum.  No  man 
was  so  attentive  to  the  words  of  the  preacher  as  he. 
But  the  neighbors  had  whisperings  about  some  crime, 
which  had  made  him  leave  his  home  beyond  sea ;  and 
there  was  a  strange  mystery  about  him.  No  crime  was 
his,  however,  save  that  he  loved  and  was  crossed  in  it 
by  the  interference  of  his  father,  and  then  fled  his  coun 
try.  In  the  earlier  days  he  bore  up  under  it,  and  kept 
to  his  reason.  He  was  first  a  farmer,  then  a  shoe 
maker,  a  good  workman,  and  not  very  eccentric.  He 
had  the  good  taste  to  do  certain  days'  works  in  one  of 
the  most  charming  interior  towns  of  eastern  Massa 
chusetts,  Topsfield ;  whose  hills,  and  groves  and 
meadows  were  a  delight  to  him.  He  was  always  very 
choice  of  his  surroundings.  If  his  hut  was  ever  in  any 
town,  it  may  be  called  safe  for  summer  residents  in  the 
country  to  buy  lots  near  by.  A  summer  resident  north, 
he  often  wintered  in  some  southern  state.  He  was  like 
a  bird,  flitting  back  and  forth  according  to  the  season. 
At  first  he  called  himself  William  Williams.  But  the 
more  he  reflected  upon  the  kind  of  life  he  ought  to  be 
leading  with  a  true  home  in  Norway,  the  more  he  lost 
his  mental  balance  ;  and  he  came  to  call  himself  St. 
John.  And  he  went  into  the  wilderness  to  live ;  and 
wandered  henceforth,  never  tarrying  long  anywhere. 
He  kept  it  up  for  nearly  forty  years.  Once  or  twice, 


CROOKED  STICKS.  55 

relatives  found  him,  and  tried  to  get  him  to  go  with 
them  to  take  possession  of  certain  estates  left  him ;  but 
John  Comstock  died  as  he  lived,  a  hermit. 

The  sun  had  gone  down,  and  we  went  up  from  the 
gray  sea  to  a  hill  top  back  of  the  grove,  and  after  taking 
one  more  look  up  and  down  the  picturesque  shore,  we 
descended  the  northern  slope,  moving  toward  a  distant 
arm  of  the  ocean,  which  was  shining  under  the  last 
rays  of  daylight.  Within  a  mile  we  came  to  a  grave 
yard  close  on^the  brink  of  the  sea.  And  we  heard 

"  The  moaning,  murmuring  waves, 
Whose  melancholy  echoes  wail 
Beside  the  lonely  graves." 

"  I  was  once  passing  this  burial  ground  in  the  road 
over  the  other  side,"  said  Cephas,  "upon  an  evening,  in 
a  terrific  thunder  shower.  By  a  flash  of  lightning  I 
saw  a  man  standing  in  the  open  mouth  of  a  tomb  close 
to  the  path,  and  he  called  to  me  in  a  sepulchral  voice, — 

"  '  Come  in,  there  is  plenty  of  room.' 

"  Then  came  a  sharp,  almost  stunning  clap  of  thun 
der.  And,  I  confess,  I  ran  like  mad.  Hearing  steps 
behind  me,  I  turned  my  head,  and  with  the  next  flash 
saw  the  stout  man  from  the  tomb  close  upon  me. 

" '  Stop,  stop,  I  want  you,'  shouted  the  apparition. 

"  And  with  a  spring  he  clutched  my  shoulder. 

" '  My  friend,  I  want  to  borrow  your  umbrella,'  said 
he  who  had  risen  from  the  grave's  mouth. 

"  It  turned  out  that  he  was  a  wild  fellow, —  a  trout 
fisher,  horse  racer,  and  hound  breeder, —  living  three 


56  CROOKED  STICKS. 

miles  away ;  who,  seeing  the  tomb  door  open  when  the 
shower  came  up,  went  in  there  for  shelter.  But  the 
roof  leaked  so  badly,  that  he  was  quite  willing  to  get 
out  of  it,  particularly  if  there  was  the  possibility  of  a 
practical  joke." 

"This  same  fellow,"  continued  Cephas,  "was  once 
used  for  a  good  purpose  on  this  very  spot.  Some  years 
ago,  he  originated  a  plot  to  frighten  one  of  his  tavern 
companions.  Two  or  three  of  these  bar  room  saints 
came  one  dark  night  to  this  cemetery, — which  is  hem 
med  in  by  woods  each  way  on  the  road, —  and  tied  a 
rope  across  the  track  to  entrap  their  comrade  who 
would  soon  come  along  on  his  way  home.  His  horse 
came  to  a  standstill  at  the  rope,  just  opposite  this  row 
of  tombs.  And  a  deep  voice  from  the  top  of  this  tall 
pine,  called  him  by  name, — 

"  '  Isaiah,  Isaiah,  Come  to  judgment.  Come  to  judg 
ment.' 

"  The  rope  was  slacked,  and  his  horse  made  his  way 
homeward, —  the  driver  half  dead  with  terror.  But  his 
subsequent  knowledge  that  it  was  the  voice  of  a  fallen 
angel  he  had  heard,  never  shook  his  resolution  to  lead 
a  new  kind  of  life.  He  became  a  most  estimable 
neighbor,  and  valued  citizen ;  and  by  his  consistent 
Christian  life,  a  pillar  in  the  church  of  the  Lord." 

At  our  lodging  place  that  night,  I  read  the  dusty 
sermon  I  had  found  in  the  old  parsonage.  It  showed 
the  material  the  minister  had  to  deal  with  in  Tragabig- 
zanda.  "When  I  first  came  to  the  settlement,"  says 


CROOKED  STICKS.  57 

the  manuscript,  "  I  saw  many  an  unpainted  house,  with 
clapboards  flying  loose  and  rag  bags  in  the  windows. 
Broken  wagons  were  standing  about  in  moss-covered 
and  decaying  orchards,  hemmed  in  by  dilapidated 
fences.  Lean  looking  hounds  were  in  the  barn  yard, 
and  hungry  hounds  on  the  door  step.  Farmers'  wives 
came  to  the  parsonage  from  all  quarters  to  ask  what 
could  be  done  to  keep  their  husbands  from  the  drink. 
And  when  I  saw  the  school  committee  of  the  town,  and 
the  selectmen,  and  the  town  clerk,  in  procession,  wheel 
ing  through  the  public  streets  a  barrel  of  whiskey  to 
the  place  one  of  them  called  'home  ' — I  felt  compelled 
to  speak  out  in  meeting  quite  decidedly." 

The  sermon  then  goes  on  to  relate  how  some  of  his 
people  who  had  unusually  hard  heads, —  hard  as  buffa 
loes, —  and  could  stand  any  amount  of  liquor  without 
apparent  harm,  used  to  have  what  they  called  "  Sunday 
prayer  meetings  "  on  a  little  island  down  the  harbor. 
It  was  on  their  account  that  the  name  was  changed 
from  Rum  Island,  which  it  had  borne  since  a  cargo  of 
the  stuff  was  wrecked  there  in  colonial  times,  to  Ram 
Island.  It  is  intimated  in  the  sermon  that  the  parson 
sometimes  visited  this  rendezvous  to  pray  for  his  peo 
ple.  And,  according  to  the  manuscript,  some  of  these 
rocky-headed  citizens  lived  to  learn  a  better  use  for 
Sunday,  and  became  excellent  members  of  society ; 
although  some  determined  to  drink  rum  to  a  good  old 
age, —  if  only,  as  they  said,  to  show  that  it  could  be 
done  in  spite  of  all  the  assertions  of  physicians  and 
fanatics  to  the  contrary. 


58  CROOKED  STICKS. 

"  I  have  sometimes,"  said  the  pastor  in  this  sermon, 
"  found  in  a  wild  dell  of  the  forest,  within  sound  of  the 
sea,  an  elevated  flat  rock,  which  the  young  men  have 
turned  into  a  card  and  drinking  table.  And  I  have 
made  that  rock  an  altar,  upon  which  to  pray  for  those 
who  gathered  there." 

The  paper  throughout  has  a  wholesome  ring  to  it, 
snugly  fitting  the  needs  of  the  hour.  This  pastor  chose 
to  grapple  with  the  passions  of  his  parishioners  and 
their  rampant  iniquity,  rather  than  spend^the  Sabbath 
hours  in  quarreling  with  the  heresies  of  distant  doctors. 
That  the  sins  which  afflicted  his  earlier  pastorate  had 
not  yet  wholly  ceased,  appears  from  the  closing  para 
graph  : — 

"  Spiritual  struggling  and  triumph  is  all  that  gives 
dignity  to  a  community.  No  natural  scenery  will  make 
up  for  want  of  character.  To  gain  moral  power  in  a 
beautiful  region  is  the  only  thing  worth  doing.  It  is 
the  only  fit  use  to  make  of  the  scenery.  Those  who 
come  to  such  places  only  to  follow  fashion  or  to  fish 
and  to  fiddle,  might  as  well  spend  their  days  and  nights 
in  Sahara.  And  some  of  the  residents  of  these  shore 
towns  might  as  well  chew  their  tobacco  and  spit  out 
their  oaths  in  an  alkali  desert,  as  to  be  riding  on  this 
silver  tide  or  coasting  these  borders  of  what  would 
be  an  Eden  if  it  were  not  for  man's  sin  and  God's 
cursing  east  wind.  As  the  devil  entered  Paradise 
sitting  between  the  teeth  of  the  serpent,  poisoning  the 
fangs,  so  he  runs,  in  liquid  form,  down  the  throats  of 
many  of  our  people,  and  then  they  act  like  the  sons  of 


CROOKED  STICKS.  59 

perdition.     Such  marks  of  sin  on  this  shore  mar  its 
beauty ;  and  it  is  a  blighted  garden  of  the  Lord." 

After  reading  the  sermon,  I  asked  Cephas  if  it  was 
applicable  to  the  people  under  his  pastorate.  He 
would  not  tell  me.  But  I  ventured  to  ask, — 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  try  a  missionary  tour  in  the 
West,  as  if  your  labors  were  not  wanted  here  ?" 

"  Some  of  these  people  may  be  easily  reached,"  he 
answered,  "  and  it  is  probable  that  some  never  will  be. 
You  remember  what  the  Norwegian  said  about  kindling 
cinders." 


60  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 


V. 
THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

BETWEEN  two  and  three  years  passed  before  I 
saw  Cephas  again.  Meantime,  I  had  found  my 
level  in  an  obscure  pastorate  ;  but  since  it  was 
within  a  convenient  distance  of  what  I  considered  the 
center  of  civilization,  I  put  up  with  it  contentedly  as 
possible.  Not  yet  did  the  Polar  Star  guide  my  life.  I 
was  a  home  missionary  through  force  of  circumstances, 
not  by  choice.  The  poverty,  however,  of  my  friend  and 
myself  was  not  much  increased  by  spending  money  on 
the  post  office.  We  had  confidence  enough  in  each 
other  not  to  suppose  love  extinct  if  it  did  not  appear  by 
every  mail.  Sometimes  the  silence  was  unbroken  for 
months.  We  were  so  unlike  that  I  needed  other  friends, 
and  he  also,  to  meet  certain  mental  wants.  Yet  on  the 
whole  we  were  more  and  more  wedded  to  each  other. 
We  understood  one  another  perfectly,  and  knew  just 
how  to  get  on  together.  The  months  therefore  led  us 
to  rest  more  and  more  in  our  friendship :  although  I 
did  not  understand  how  he  could  put  up  with  me,  I 
being  utterly  unable  to  countenance  myself  in  certain 
selfish  courses;  but  he  evidently  thought  me  capable  of 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  6 1 

a  higher  consecration,  and  little  by  little. I  was  led  by 
him. 

:•/  So  our  boyhood  acquaintance  was  ripening  year  by 
year  into  a  rare  kind  of  friendship,  the  mutual  love  of 
men,  who  with  their  own  domestic  surroundings  and 
with  their  circle  of  cares,  yet  find  in  each  other  a  certain 
relation  in  the  highest  degree  satisfying  and  helpful,  as 
if  for  some  of  the  most  important  ends  of  life  the  two 
were  one.  But  it  is  impossible  that  there  should  be 
such  an  one,  unless  there  be  first  two.  Two  individuals 
intensely  developed,  thoroughly  unlike  in  many  particu 
lars  and  carefully  respecting  each  other's  peculiarities, 
must  exist  before  there  can  be  the  highest  kind  of 
friendship,  though  the  brotherhood  itself  is  based  on 
mutual  confidence  and  affection,  and  substantial  unity 
of  purpose.  Two  creatures,  who  appear  to  each  other  a 
"  mere  mush  of  concession,"  can  never  love  each  other. 
Unlikeness  is  as  needful  as  likeness  in  the  house  of 
friends  ;  the  unlikeness  recognized,  respected  and  used. 
The  great  use  to  me  in  having  a  friend  is  to  have  one 
who  looks  at  many  things  differently  from  what  I  do : 
such  a  man  adds  to  my  mental  resources  and  makes  me 
stronger,  provided  that  in  the  rest  of  his  make-up  we 
are  thoroughly  agreed./ ' 

It  is  therefore  nothing  strange  that  between  my  inti 
mate  and  myself  certain  topics  were  never  touched  in 
talk  or  by  mail-bag.  Parts  of  his  interior  life  were  un 
known  to  me  as  if  he  had  been  a  stranger.  Many 
points  in  my  nature  he  seemed  to  take  no  more  cogni 
zance  of  than  if  I  had  been  a  Fiji  islander.  Indeed,  if 


62  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

I  had  been  a  cannibal,  he  would  have  felt  more  at  lib 
erty  to  invade  my  personality.  Our  sudden  visits  to 
each  other  were  therefore  often  glad  or  sad  surprises, 
by  which  new  phases  came  to  view,  as  if  we  should 
never  cease  to  delight  in  the  unfoldings  of  character 
which  new  years  revealed.  I  rejoiced  with  a  sort  of 
ecstasy  when  I  was  about  to  visit  him,  since  I  was  soon 
to  behold  some  man  of  g-reat  worth  little  known  to  me 
with  whom  I  had  formed  a  secret  alliance  years  before. 
We  loved  to  steal  a  march  upon  each  other,  appearing 
suddenly  at  time  and  in  place  the  most  unlocked  for. 
Our  movements  were  so  erratic  that  I  averred  of  him 
what  he  said  of  me,  that  no  surprise  would  be  excited 
in  his  mind  to  see  me  riding  through  the  air  on  a 
broomstick. 

Eight  or  nine  months  had  gone  by  without  inter 
change  of  letters,  and  I  started  for  Nuntundale.  Ce 
phas  was  living  on  the  island  where  he  had  spent  that 
part  of  his  childhood  in  which  he  was  absent  from  our 
birthplace.  A  fishing  village  on  a  larger  island  con 
nected  by  a  bridge  was  his  parish.  I  had  never  been 
there,  but  every  furlong  of  the  soil  had  been  described 
to  me  so  often,  that  I  should  have  known  my  where 
abouts,  if  I  had  been  let  down  there  blindfolded  at 
midnight.  It  was  late  in  the  winter.  A  cod-catcher 
set  me  across  from  the  main-land,  over  a  mile  of  rough 
water.  Seated  in  the  stern,  rising  and  falling  on  the 
uneasy  cross  sea,  I  pulled  from  my  pocket,  for  the 
fourth  time  since  I  left  the  railroad,  the  fragment  of  a 
school  composition,  in  which  Cephas  once  described  his 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  63 

"ISLAND  HOME." 

"The  old  brown  house  in  which  I  spent  my  child 
hood,  was  built  upon  a  small  island  on  our  eastern 
coast.  Green  fields,  groves  of  walnut  and  oak,  and 
patches  of  dark  fir  mark  the  surface.  It  is  guarded 
from  the  northeast  storms  by  tall  and  torn  cliffs,  against 
which  the  billows  lash  themselves  into  foam.  These 
headlands  overhanging  the  sea,  rise  to  a  great  height. 
In  one  place  a  pinnacle  lifts  its  head  above  the  rest 
of  the  wall  like  a  sentinel  tower.  Inland,  not  far  back 
from  this  point,  is  a  huge  crag  with  upright  walls  like  a 
fort,  fir-crowned. 

"  Upon  the  extreme  northeast  point  of  the  island 
there  is  a  precipice  about  four  hundred  feet  long  and 
eighty  feet  high ;  so  upright  that  a  pebble  dropped  from 
the  top  falls  into  the  surf,  which  pounds  the  base  with 
terrific  violence  when  the  wind  has  been  out  for  sev 
eral  days.  I  wish  I  could  describe  its  peculiar  make. 
Take  a  book  whose  thickness  is  greater  than  its  width. 
When  .it  is  closed,  rest  it  on  its  back  upon  the  table, 
then  drop  one  cover,  and  you  have  the  leaves  like  the 
upright  strata  of  this  cliff  rising  perpendicularly,  and 
the  sea  is  sweeping  in  over  the  cover  up  to  the  base  of 
the  leaves.  Where  the  flat  cover  now  is,  there  were 
once  leaves,  upright,  now  worn  away,  leaving  polished 
grooves  like  the  old  ways  in  a  ship-yard.  The  inland 
end  of  the  rock  forms  part  of  a  high  hill.  The  end 
toward  the  sea  has  been  subjected  to  cannonading  by 
the  waves  through  so  many  centuries  that  each  leaf  has 


64  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

been  broken.  The  seaward  end  of  the  '  Bald  Cliff '  is 
thus  made  up  of  fantastic  stairways  for  the  sea-nymphs 
and  the  mer-men,  and  boys  and  girls  from  the  land,  to 
climb  over.  And  here  the  sea  gulls  often  settle  in  a 
white  cloud.  This  book  of  upright  strata  was  origin 
ally  three  hundred  feet  thick ;  about  a  third  of  it  has 
washed  away. 

"All  along  the  east  side  of  the  island,  the  sharp 
waves  have  cut  strange  gashes  in  the  rocks ;  gouging 
out  veins  of  softer  rock  and  leaving  deep  fissures.  Be 
tween  the  eastern  headlands  and  the  southern  slopes, 
the  Middle  cove  comes  far  in  toward  the  heart  of  the 
island ;  upon  the  one  side  sheltered  by  steep  walls  of 
rock,  upon  the  other  margined  with  an  orchard  and 
smiling  fields  of  growing  grain.  Here  the  noisy  sea- 
fowl  settle  down,  filling  the  cove  like  unwieldy,  unmelt- 
ing  snowflakes  on  the  blue  waters.  Upon  the  south 
and  west  of  this  little  kingdom  in  the  sea,  we  find  the 
sweet  corn  lands  separated  from  the  bitter  brine  by  a 
mere  belt  of  sand,  which  is  almost  covered  at  flood  tide 
but  six  hundred  feet  wide  at  low  ebb.  When  .1  was 
hoeing  corn  upon  this  slope  in  June  days,  I  was  cheered 
by  the  measured  sound  of  long  rollers  falling  on  the 
beach.  The  water  is  comparatively  shallow  on  this 
sunny  side  of  the  island,  while  a  frigate  can  sail  close 
to  the  cliffs  on  the  northeast.  On  the  southwest,  the 
beach  makes  out  into  the  bar  running  toward  the  main. 
A  large  open  walnut  grove,  with  clean  grassed  floor, 
comes  down  to  the  edge  of  the  sand  where  the  bar 
makes  off.  On  the  northwest  of  the  island,  there  is  a 
narrow,  but  sharply-defined  and  ragged-edged  channel, 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  65 

over  which  springs  the  bridge  that  leads  to  the  Fishing 
Village.  This  little  hamlet  is  situated  on  the  south 
western  part  of  an  extensive  island,  which  runs  parallel 
with  the  coast  and  is  separated  from  it  by  a  wide  .and 
deep  passage." 

This  sea-girt  home  was  now  before  me,  and  I  was 
soon  landed  at  the  head  of  the  little  cove,  near  the 
middle  of  the  island.  The  wind  was  raw  from  the 
east,  but  I  established  myself  under  the  lee  of  crags, 
where  a  tall  spruce  had  foot-hold  near  the  water. 
Making  as  big  a  fire  as  I  could  with  drift,  I  sat  down  to 
my  watch,  like  some  wrecked  mariner  cast  on  the  cold 
coast.  I  knew  there  should  be  three  houses  on  the 
island,  and  three  I  could  see.  It  was  the  time  of  day 
when  the  parson  was  likely  to  be  in  his  study,  and 
within  half  an  hour  after  my  signal  was  smoking  the 
humane  gentleman  opened  a  window,  thrust  out  a  tele 
scope,  and  was  soon  under  full  sail  down  the  yard 
toward  the  cove,  —  ballasted  by  a  huge  kettle  in  one 
hand.  Cephas  appeared  not  to  notice  me.  Going  to  a 
fish  house  opposite  me,  on  the  other  end  of  the  little 
beach,  he  opened  the  door,  and  presently  came  out 
with  a  fresh  cod ;  then  he  walked  slowly  over  to 
ward  the  place  where  I  was  lying  on  a  shelf  of  rock 
with  my  feet  to  the  fire.  His  eyes  were  downcast; 
and  he  came  to  the  fire  and  began  to  prepare  a  chow 
der  without  once  looking  at  me.  Now  I  am  an  expert 
at  chowder ;  and  when  I  saw  that  he  did  not  season  it 
to  my  mind,  I  could  not  help  speaking  out. — 
4 


66  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

"Take  out  them  onions." 

"Onions  is  good  for  shipwrecked  emigrants,"  he 
answered,  slicing  one  more,  knowing  them  to  be  my 
particular  detestation. 

"  Cephas,"  said  I,  rising,  "  I  can't  stand  it  to  be  dead 
any  longer,  when  such  things  are  going  into  chowder." 

"Lie  still,  lie  still,  my  boy,"  he  answered,  "these 
onions  will  put  life  into  you." 

It  was  a  critical  moment,  but  I  approached  the  black 
pot,  only  to  find  that  the  bits  of  onion  had  been 
dropped  between  the  pot  and  the  fire.  We  shook  hands 
over  the  onions  without  shedding  a  tear ;  though  I 
noticed  a  strange  sadness  in  his  face  which  his  smile 
did  not  quite  dispel,  and  my  hearty  laughter  went  out 
over  the  waters  alone.  We  stirred  up  the  fire,  and 
within  the  hour  my  interior  life  seemed  to  be  warmed 
up  more  than  it  had  been  since  we  talked  over  the 
North  Star's  business  by  the  streams  of  the  Tragabig- 
zanda  forest.  And  Cephas'  face  kindled  in  a  moment 
as  soon  as  we  put  our  clam-shell  spoons  into  the  kettle. 
Said  he  :— 

"Do  you  know  that  I  can  make  you  swallow  your 
spoon  ?" 

"Don't,"  I  answered,  "or  I'll  make  you  eat  the 
kettle." 

So  as  boys,  on  one  wild  day  in  "  the  gulf,"  we  had 
agreed  that,  by  using  a  word  reminding  each  other  of 
that  hour,  either  of  us  could  compel  the  other  to  eat  as 
bidden :  a  safe  rule  since  it  works  both  ways,  goose  and 
gander  being  liable  to  be  served  with  the  same  sauce. 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  67 

After  this  calling  up  of  the  early  life,  he  seemed  like  a 
new  man,  as  one  awakened  from  a  horrible  nightmare. 

Cephas  appearing  loath  to  return  to  the  house,  we 
did  not  leave  our  fire  till  a  dense  fog  came  in  near 
night.  The  first  house  on  the  road  from  the  cove  stood 
on  a  little  elevation  overlooking  a  considerable  part  of 
the  island.  A  little  tract  of  woodland  on  the  crest  of 
the  ridge,  bearing  a  mixed  growth,  shut  off  the  view 
behind  the  cottage  on  the  North.  The  buildings  were 
sheltered  from  the  severest  winds  by  the  arms  of  the 
wood.  The  house  appeared  to  be  empty.  There  was 
no  fire,  and  the  dust  was  thick  in  the  corners  of  the 
doorsill.  A  bit  of  snow  drift  upon  the  cold  side  of  the 
spring  house  bore  no  mark  of  foot  or  hand.  This,  I 
had  concluded,  was  Cephas'  old  home;  and  I  had 
looked  to  see  him  come  out  of  it  to  meet  me,  although 
I  noticed  no  streamer  flying  from  the  great  chimney. 
The  weeping  elm  over  the  spring  house,  and  the  im 
mense  buttonwood  near  the  woodshed,  I  knew  all  about. 

"Do  let  me,"  I  said,  "taste  that  spring  water," — 
moving  quickly  that  way. 

He  grasped  me  by  the  arm,  and  said, — "  Not  yet." 

Without  looking  at  him,  I  said, — "I  must  lie  on  my 
back  and  kick  up  my  heels  on  that  flat  stone  under 
the  buttonwood." 

"  Never !"  he  answered. 

I  looked  in  his  face,  and  saw  outlooking  some  sad 
mystery  I  could  not  read. 

"Go  with  me  into  the  house  just  a  moment,  I  want 
to  see  the  attic,"  I  asked. 

>*"   OF 


68  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

"  I  would  not  enter  that  house  for  all  the  world,"  he 
replied,  speaking  slowly  and  in  a  low  tone. 

And  his  manner  was  such  that  I  quietly  followed  his 
leading,  neither  of  us  speaking  a  word ;  but  he  held  very 
fast  to  my  arm,  and  would  hardly  let  go.  His  hostess 
lived  in  the  third  house,  nearest  the  town.  After  tea, 
Cephas  was  absent  half  an  hour,  going  to  the  village, 
where  sad  news  from  the  sea  had  come  to  one  home 
that  day.  My  friend's  landlord,  who  gained  his  living 
by  plowing  furrows  in  the  sea  and  raising  his  bread 
from  the  waters,  came  in  meanwhile,  and  I  soon  unrav 
elled  the  mystery. 

When  Cephas  moved  upon  the  island,  nearly  two 
years  before,  he  went  to  housekeeping  in  the  old  home ; 
and  now,  within  a  little  time,  his  wife  had  died,  a  babe 
a  few  months  old  going  before  the  mother.  My  hard 
habits  of  single  life, —  since  happily  changed  for  one  of 
the  best  homes  in  the  world, —  were  at  that  time  so 
decided  that  I  could  have  nothing  in  common  with 
Cephas,  and  we  had  never  exchanged  a  word  on  matri 
monial  topics,  though  I  had  known  long  before  that  he 
hoped  to  have  sometime  what  he  called  a  completer 
life. 

It  was  the  early  winter  when  the  blow  came  upon 
him.  He  had  been  over  the  channel  on  an  evening 
after  a  driving,  drifting,  bitterly  cold  snow-storm  had 
set  in,  to  see  whether  a  poor  woman  had  fuel  enough  to 
wear  out  the  gale.  Upon  his  late  return  he  found  the 
body  of  his  wife  sitting  in  the  old  arm  chair  in  front  of 
the  fire  with  the  open  New  Testament  in  hand,  but  her 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  69 

eyes  had  closed  forever.  An  intimate  friend,  the  phy 
sician,  being  late  at  the  house  next  to  them,  saw  their 
light  after  midnight  and  went  in,  to  find  the  husband 
insensible  upon  the  floor  where  he  had  fallen  by  side  of 
the  chair.  As  he  was  removed,  he  directed  that  her 
body  should  be  borne  out  to  the  house  of  his  present 
host  for  the  funeral,  that  nothing  in  his  house 
should  be  disturbed,  that  the  dress  in  which  she  was 
sitting  should  be  laid  over  the  back  of  the  chair  as  it 
stood,  and  the  New  Testament  left  in  the  chair  with 
face  turned  down  at  the  chapter  she  had  been  read 
ing.  So  the  fire  went  out  upon  the  hearth,  and  no  one 
had  kindled  it,  or  entered  the  house  since. 

His  life,  as  it  had  been,  all  stopped  then  and  there. 
A  new  Bible,  new  ink  and  paper,  new  garments,  and  all 
things  new,  were  obtained  for  the  new  man  in  his  life 
of  woe.  The  only  thing  about  the  old  house  taken 
away  was  the  key,  which  for  a  long  time  lay  upon  his 
table  with  the  key  of  the  buried  casket ;  they  were  used 
as  paper  weights,  adding  strangely  to  the  weight  of  his 
sermons.  But  their  weight  almost  broke  down  his 
study  table ;  and  were  so  heavy  he  could  not  move 
them  to  another  place :  he  could  hardly  live  with  them, 
and  certainly  not  without  them.  That  house  was  for  a 
time  his  terror,  and  he  wished  it  might  burn  down. 
For  weeks  he  never  looked  at  it,  though  his  new  home 
was  so  near  it  and  in  plain  sight.  But  when  a  great 
storm  came  on,  and  a  brig  broke  up  on  the  rocks  at  the 
point  of  the  cove,  he  passed  the  house  unwittingly  in 
his  hurry  to  help.  And  since  then  he  had  been  more 


70  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.      • 

sane  on  the  subject ;  but  he  usually  saw  it  as  though  he 
saw  it  not,  and  he  walked  by  it  as  if  its  place  was 
vacant.  One  day  he  took  the  house  key,  and  threw  it 
into  the  sea  off  the  Bald  Cliff.  He  had  lately  finished 
paying  for  the  house ;  and  his  notion  seemed  to  be  to 
let  the  thing  rot  down  with  all  its  contents.  Recently 
he  had  been  very  busy  with  parochial  work,  and  to 
all  appearance  he  would  sometime  be  himself  again. 
There  was  really  nothing  disordered  about  him  —  only 
as  we  all  go  mad  with  sorrow. 

"  Oh  troubles  dark,  and  hard  to  understand  ! 
Ah,  whither  will  these  waters  carry  me  ?" 

"  O  Death  the  Healer,  scorn  thou  not,  I  pray, 
To  come  to  me  :  of  cureless  ills  thou  art 
The  one  physician." 

"  Are  the  consolations  of  God  small  with  thee  ?  " 

"  The  polar  star,  the  star  of  hope,  has  gone  down;   and  the 
southern  cross,  the  cross  of  sorrow,  rises  and  is  borne  aloft." 

These  were  the  sentences  I  found  lying  under  the 
paper  weight  on  the  study  table,  as  the  beams  of  the 
morning  sun  fell  full  upon  them.  When  Cephas  came 
in,  I  pointed  to  them,  and  then  to  a  geranium  in  the 
window,  and  said, — 

"You  must  do  as  the  plants  do,  look  toward  the 
light." 

We  turned  our  backs  on  the  memorials  of  grief,  and 
went  out  into  the  genial  sunlight.  There  had  been 
fogs  and  rains,  and  the  wind  was  still  east,  but  the 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  71 

morning  was  clear ;  a  few  brown  patches  of  snow  clung 
close  to  the  walls,  and  there  was  as  much  mud  as  the 
soil  would  make.  Passing  the  bridge  and  village,  we 
entered  a  seemingly  interminable  tract  of  low  pines 
hung  with  gray  moss.  The  fog  came  in,  shut  out  the 
sun,  grew  thicker,  turned  to  a  dense  mist,  dripped  from 
the  trees,  trickled  down  the  beards  of  moss,  and  fairly 
settled  into  a  cold  rain  about  noon.  It  impressed  me 
as  one  of  the  most  lonely  walks  I  ever  took.  But  we 
were  dry  under  our  oil  garments  and  sou'westers,  which 
we  had  taken,  not  trusting  the  sun  to  keep  truce  with 
us.  All  the  morning  we  were  not  out  of  sound  of  the 
hoarse  murmur  of  the  deep.  The  story  of  my  candidat- 
ing  experiences  after  I  had  left  Nuntundale,  rather 
amused  my  friend  for  an  hour  or  two ;  and  I  could  see 
his  delight  at  my  being  in  home  missionary  work,  as  if 
he  had  new  hope  of  me  henceforth.  And  he  said  at 
dinner  time, —  when  we  had  our  fire  roaring  in  a  rocky 
place  among  spruces  by  the  side  of  a  creek  at  full  tide, 
—  that  he  thought  my  hard  work  and  poor  pay  was 
bearing  fruit,  since  he  discerned  a  vein  of  gentle  religion 
in  my  talk, — 

"You  are  more  like  yourself,  as  you  were  when  a 
boy." 

When  he  said  this,  I  began  to  pull  to  pieces  the  little 
shelter  we  had  built  of  bark  and  drift,  putting  one 
section  after  another  of  our  roof  into  the  fire. 

"  I  wish,"  said  I,  as  the  flames  mounted  higher,  "you 
had  your  boy  heart  again.  Your  heart  is  broken." 

For  I  had   noticed   all   the   morning,  whatever  we 


72  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

talked  about,  the  consciousness  of  his  sorrow  was  rever 
berating  always  in  his  heart,  like  the  unceasing  roar  of 
the  surf,  whose  voice  is  heard  every  moment  in  spite  of 
the  clangor  of  the  sea  birds  crying  in  another  key. 
That  house  on  the  hill  was  always  before  his  eyes,  even 
when  I  was  calling  up  to  him  the  memory  of  early 
years,  and  relating  to  him  every  pleasant  adventure 
since  we  had  seen  each  other.  He  seemed  to  be  walk 
ing  in  a  dream;  then  his  face  would  light  up  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  wore  great  anxiety  and  looked 
about  with  eagerness,  as  if  somewhere  there  must  be  an 
escape  for  him:  like  a  lost  traveler,  seeing  indeed 
many  things  agreeable  to  the  eye,  but  desirous  only  of 
knowing  where  he  is  and  which  way  to  go. 

"The  waters  of  affliction  ebb  and  flow,"  I  said,  "and 
the  high  tide  will  soon  fall  away." 

But  he  made  me  no  answer.  And  we  turned  down 
the  tidewater  to  the  low  shore  of  the  ocean;  and 
walked  on  the  soft  sand  just  out  of  reach  of  the  waves. 
His  heart  was 

"  As  full  of  sorrow  as  the  sea  of  sands," 

In  going  home  by  the  beach,  we  observed  an  old 
custom  in  our  tramping,  and  separated  for  some  two 
hours,  so  that  each  might  have  the  advantage  of  being 
alone,  that  no  day  should  be  bereft  of  solitude.  But 
my  mind  was  always  following  my  friend,  whose  walk 
seemed  so  lonely,  like  an  iceberg  on  its  solitary  way 
shrouded  in  mist.  It  had  left  off  raining,  but  the  fog 
was  thick  enough  to  cut  with  a  knife,  and  I  saw  little  of 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  73 

Cephas,  save  when  emerging  from  the  dark  cloud  of 
vapor  we  crossed  each  other's  course  on  the  widening 
beach,  as  the  high  tide  was  creeping  back  into  the  sea. 
When  we  were  ready  to  keep  company  again, —  and 
had  so  signalled  by  imitating  steamboat  whistles  an 
swering  each  other  through  the  fog  bank, —  we  had 
come  upon  a  shingle  beach,  after  which  we  followed  a 
well-laid  seawall  of  some  length.  The  mist  lightened 
as  we  climbed  a  high  headland  just  before  the  hour  of 
sunset ;  and  we  saw  the  face  of  the  sun  when  he  went 
down  behind  the  forests  of  the  mainland.  While  we 
were  waiting  for  the  sinking  of  the  sun,  my  companion 
silently  seated  himself  at  some  distance  from  me. 
"  He  sitteth  alone,"  says  the  prophet,  "  and  keepeth 
silence,  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon  him."  As  soon 
as  the  sun's  disk  disappeared,  I  turned  to  my  friend, 
only  to  see  his  eyes  fixed  "  like  the  eyes  of  those  who 
see  the  dead."  He  was  looking  at  the  fir  trees  in 
the  grove,  which  hid  the  Phantom  House  on  the  hill. 

In  passing  the  houses  of  his  parishioners,  his.  mind 
was  diverted  ;  and  he  told  me  quaint  anecdotes  of  the 
people.  Here  lived  Pulsifer,  the  artist,  a  mile  from  the 
harbor,  who,  buying  a  big  cod,  would  tie  a  line  to  the 
tail  and  drag  it  home  over  the  rough  roadway,  so 
"  scaling  it "  for  the  fry-pan  as  he  went  along.  And 
there  in  another  house  was  a  fisherman  half  mad,  son  of 
the  old  minister.  When  his  stentorian  voice  was 
uplifted  in  anger,  it  sometimes  sounded  over  half  a 
league  of  rocky  pasture,  and  startled  the  inhabitants  of 
the  village.  Or  he  would  cry  out  in  his  boat  in  the 


74  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

early  morning,  if  he  suddenly  looked  up  from  his  lines 
and  saw  another  fisherman  taking  a  berth  beside  him ; 
and  he  did  not  cease  to  scare  all  wild  birds  with  his 
violence  till  the  invader  pulled  up  his  killick  and  rowed 
away.  But  Joe's  great  horror  was  the  sight  of  gilt 
devils'  feet,  which  a  cabinet  maker  on  the  mill-dam  put 
under  his  mahogany  center-tables.  The  sight  of  these 
carved  claws  would  make  him  drop  his  fish,  lift  up  his 
voice  and  yell  till  the  demon  was  taken  out  of  his  path. 
When,  however,  we  reached  the  parson's  own  door, 
these  quaint  stories  had  lost  their  charm,  and  the  old 
pain  came  back.  The  family  had  gone  out,  and  I 
climbed  in  at  a  window  and  struck  a  light.  But  my 
friend  sat  outside  upon  the  bench  at  the  gate.  And  I 
heard  his  voice  :  — 

"  As  one  alone,  once  not  alone, 

I  sit  and  knock  at  Nature's  door, 
Heart-bare,  heart-hungry,  very  poor, 

Whose  desolated  days  go  on." 

Before  bed  time  it  was  raining  again.  It  was  very 
dark  out  of  doors,  and  in  doors  for  that  matter.  But 
when  I  went  out,  as  usual,  to  walk  fifteen  minutes  before 
sleeping,  I  saw  a  cloud  broken  in  the  west,  and  a  frag 
ment  of  light  dropping  into  the  opening — star  or  moon. 
Looking  toward  the  arm  of  the  sea  stretching  that  way, 
I  knew  it  to  be  the  moon  by  the  light  on  the  water 
where  all  had  been  dark  before.  In  five  minutes  the 
crescent,  two  or  three  nights  old,  had  passed  the  open 
ing  and  was  concealed  again,  and  the  rain  kept  on 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  75 

pouring  all  the  while.  This,  I  thought,  is  like  the  life 
of  Cephas  in  this  settlement,  one  continuous  downfall 
of  grief,  unrelenting ;  no  light  can  shine  for  him  more 
than  a  moment.  And  I  formed  the  resolution  to  get 
him  out  of  the  town  into  new  circumstances,  before 
these  deadly  surroundings  should  perfect  their  work. 
Although  I  had  not  myself  personally  known  any  deep 
sorrow,  I  thought  myself  abundantly  competent  to 
advise. 

Dirge-like  music  from  the  shore  came  in  at  the  win 
dows  all  night ;  and  I  slept  little,  hearing  every  now 
and  then  the  steps  of  my  friend,  as  he  was  pacing  the 
floor  of  the  chamber  above  me. 

"  This  is  the  twenty-ninth  day  of  east  wind,"  said 
Cephas  when  we  met  in  the  morning,  "  almost  a  month 
of  rain  and  snow  and  fog,  and  raw  breath  from  the 
ocean.  You  and  I  will  go  over  and  see  the  carpenters, 
and  give  them  a  contract  for  shingling  over  the  whole 
northeast.  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  did  not 
notice  it  till  the  twenty-second  day,  but  this  last  week 
has  made  me  determine  that  if  the  wind  ever  does  get 
round,  I'll  climb  up  to  the  rooster  on  my  meeting  house 
and  nail  him,  so  he  will  always  face  toward  fair 
weather." 

By  the  time  breakfast  was  over,  the  indications 
seemed  to  be  good  for  a  big  storm  and  a  shift  in  the 
wind.  The  sea  was  sounding  heavily,  the  slow  boom 
ing  waves  of  the  night  being  changed  for  a  continuous 
roar,  with  high  rising  spray;  the  clouds  which  had  been 


76  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

opening  and  shutting  since  daybreak,  were  thickening ; 
and  the  wind,  which  had  been  steady  for  several  hours, 
was  now  rising  to  the  dignity  of  a  gale.  The  fishermen 
were  looking  after  their  craft ;  and  all  things  were  being 
made  ready  for  the  shock  of  wind  and  wave.  While  I 
was  looking  at  the  light-boat  rocking  on  the  great 
billows,  my  comrade  had  his  gaze  fixed  on  the  Phan 
tom  House.  I  at  once  said, — 

"You  must  quit  your  work,  and  go  home  with  me  a 
little  while.  Get  as  far  as  you  can  from  that  house." 

"  I  should  have  gone  to  see  you  long  before  you  came 
to  see  me,  if  it  had  not  been  for  another  of  my  houses," 
he  answered,  pointing  away  to  the  northeast.  "We 
will  go  over  there  this  morning,  if  you  like." 

Well  rigged  and  close  reefed  for  the  storm,  we  went 
out  into  it.  Fast  falling  snow-flakes  met  us  at  the  door, 
and  soon  hid  the  house  from  our  view.  Our  path  led 
through  a  corner  of  the  grove  behind  the  Phantom 
House,  and  as  we  approached,  Cephas  turned  to  the  left 
of  the  wood  and  came  into  the  path  again  beyond. 
Seeing  this  maneuver,  whose  motive  I  did  not  under 
stand  till  we  turned  into  the  same  track  again,  I  halted 
in  the  growth  of  low  shrubs,  thinking  to  draw  him  for  a 
moment  from  the  grief  which  seemed  to  curse  even  the 
trees  on*  our  way,  by  directing  his  attention  to  the  fine 
bed  of  evergreen  we  were  passing  over :  — 

"Do  you  remember  that  Thoreau  speaks  of  this  as 
'  that  portion  of  the  summer  which  does  not  fade,  the 
permanent  year,  the  unwithered  grass  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  pointing  to  the  grove,  "and  I 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  77 

remember  the  Chinese  classic,  that  'Firs  and  pines 
remain  green  throughout  the  winter,  because  they  have 
strong  hearts.'  But  I  am  like  this  lone  leaf  on  the  top 
of  this  scrub  oak,  shivering  in  the  storm." 

But  the  hour  of  that  oak  leaf  had  now  come;  a 
sudden  sweep  of  the  tempest  tore  it  off  and  set  it  flying, 
and  we  pursued  our  way.  I  had  to  pull  down  my  hat 
rim  to  keep  the  blinding  storm  out  of  my  eyes.  When, 
after  some  time,  I  again  looked  up,  there  came  to  my 
mind  in  an  instant  the  familiar  words  in  my  friend's 
old  time  school  exercise  in  which  he  described  this  part 
of  the  island :  —  "A  huge  crag  with  upright  walls  like  a 
fQrt,  fir-crowned."  We  scaled  it,  using  hands  as  well  as 
feet,  laying  hold  of  old  roots  and  clinging  to  cracks  and 
using  narrow  footing,  till  we  reached  the  top.  Here 
was  a  natural  fortification,  the  central  part  of  the  top  of 
the  rock  being  occupied  by  a  rifle  pit  or  place  for  guns, 
in  shape  much  like  a  cellar  four  feet  deep.  The  fir 
trees  upon  the  wide  bank  around  the  rim  of  the  rock, 
were  not  so  numerous  as  to  hinder  the  eye  from  getting 
full  view  at  every  point,  under  the  branches.  Many 
mornings  and  evenings  and  noons  in  fine  summer 
weather  have  I  since  spent  in  this  rifle  pit,  which  over 
looks  a  great  extent  of  land  and  sea, —  the  view  being 
cut  off  only  by  the  sentinel  tower  close  at  hand  in 
the  northeast,  and  the  Phantom  grove  in  the  south 
west.  But  in  the  gloomy  hour  when  I  first  stood  there, 
I  could  see  nothing  but  the  new  turned  earth  and 
sodded  mound,  which  occupied  the  center  of  this 
strange  cemetery. 


?8  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

There  was  only  this  one  grave.  And  it  was  without 
monument,  except  that  my  friend  stood  with  bared 
head  over  it;  and  then  kneeled,  then  lay  down  by 
its  side,  while  I  stood  afar  off  not  intermeddling  in 
these  mysteries  unknown  to  me.  Seeing  that  he  was 
absorbed  in  sorrow  as  if  unconscious  of  my  presence,  I 
quietly  slipped  away,  and  descended  from  the  sepul 
chral  crag  by  a  gently  sloping  path  on  the  side  nearest 
the  sea.  When  I  last  looked  back,  the  white  snow 
was  fast  covering  the  living  and  the  dead.  Making 
my  way  to  the  pinnacle,  where  I  knew  Cephas  would 
naturally  expect  to  find  me,  I  sat  there  alone  in  the  lee 
of  a  splintered  rock,  and  listened  to  the  roar  of  wind 
and  sea. 

"  If  I  had  a  narrow  house  and  deep  bed  there,"  said 
my  friend  when  he  rejoined  me,  "  I  should  be  content." 

And  he  sat  down  with  his  face  to  the  storm. 

"That  fresh  earth,  and  the  squares  of  turf  upon  it, 
and  the  chamber  beneath  it,  make  up  the  only  home  I 
have  in  this  world.  The  lowly  roof  which  shelters  my 
dead,  is  so  comforting  a  place  for  repose  that  I  often 
make  a  bed  of  boughs  and  sleep  by  it.  When  I  am 
alone  with  God  and  the  dead  I  can  rest.  It  is  the 
presence  of  other  thoughts  and  things  that  distracts  me. 
Not  yet  can  I  be  torn  away.  For  the  sake  of  my  hours 
on  that  rock,  I  stay  in  my  parish  and  endure  a  thou 
sand  pangs  every  day  and  ten  thousand  every  night. 
Were  it  not  for  this  new  home  I  have  had  to  build,  I 
would  burn  down  that  haunted  house  on  the  hill, 
and  never  see  this  dreary  island  again." 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE.  79 

With  that  grave  he  associated  no  idea  of  any 
presence  save  the  clay  itself.  He  was,  however,  he 
thought,  aided  in  the  apprehension  of  the  blissful 
activities  of  another  life  by  dwelling  much  in  that  high 
rock,  where  as  upon  an  altar  he  had  given  up  to  God 
the  most  precious  of  earthly  gifts,  the  mother  and  child. 
Here  the  visions  of  faith  were  brightest,  while  elsewhere 
visions  of  desolation  alone  met  his  eye. 

We  dined  that  day  in  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  crev 
ices  cut  in  the  coast  by  the  slashing  knives  of  the 
ocean.  The  cavern  at  the  end  afforded  a  roof,  and 
we  were  sheltered  from  the  wind  by  the  rocky  walls 
and  by  pieces  of  the  wrecked  brig  thrown  in  here. 
From  the  broken  ship  we  made  our  fire,  heating  and 
blackening  the  walls  of  our  stone  house  without  fear  of 
burning  it  down.  The  sullen  shock  of  the  waves 
sometimes  startled  us,  while  the  constant  moaning 
of  the  sea  accorded  with  the  feelings  of  the  hour. 

"  Deep  calleth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of-  thy  water 
spouts  :  all  Thy  waves  and  Thy  billows  have  gone  over 
me  [Psalm  42 :  7],"  repeated  my  companion.  And 
then  after  a  pause  he  added :  "  Sometime  I  shall  be 
able  to  recite  the  next  verse,  not  now." 

Seeing  a  ship-worm,  warmed  by  the  fire,  making  his 
way  out  of  a  water-logged  fragment  of  old  wreck, 
which  had  come  in  from  the  seas  on  the  last  tide, 
Cephas  said : — 

"I  am  a  worm  and  no  man, —  this  is  the  text  I  ap 
preciate  now.  How  lonely  is  this  creature  drifting 
alone  on  the  surface  of  the  deep  1  And  there  is  noth- 


8o  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

ing  strained  or  extravagant  in  it,  if  I  say  that  I  feel  as 
desolate  and  hopeless,  as  generally  broken  up,  as  if  I 
were  a  mere  worm  clinging  to  a  chip,  riding  upon  a 
storm-tossed  sea,  and  conscious  of  my  situation." 

We  spent  part  of  the  afternoon  at  the  Bald  Cliff,  hid 
ing  from  the  fury  of  the  driving  sleet  among  the  great 
boulders,  close  by  the  smoothed  leaf  of  rock  called 
"  the  ship-ways."  The  weather  was  so  thick  we  could 
not  see  beyond  the  surf-line;  but  this  was  what  we 
came  to  look  upon,  the  sharp-toothed  rocks  mangling 
the  crested  waves,  and  the  anger  of  the  sea.  We  went 
home  in  rain  not  sleet.  The  beauty  of  snow  on  the 
coast  is  short-lived,  and  we  walked  in  slosh. 

I  could  not  be  easy  in  the  edge  of  the  evening  with 
out  going  out  again  to  the  rocky  corner  of  the  cove  just 
to  imagine  how  the  brig  must  have  looked  coming  head 
on.  The  rain  had  for  the  moment  slackened.  The 
heavens  were  black,  the  land  was  black,  the  sea  was 
black ;  but  the  coast  was  lined  with  white  breakers  — 
very  white  with  phosphorescent  light  —  and  an  ad 
vanced  line  was  gleaming  over  a  sunken  ledge  far  from 
the  shore.  Two  or  three  distant  lighthouses  were  seen. 
The  wind  was  so  wild  that  I  could  hardly  stand. 

The  day  following,  and  the  next  after  that,  when  the 
wind  did  actually  haul  round  a  few  points,  and  the  day 
after  that  when  the  wind  blew  furiously  out  of  the 
northwest,  I  did  nothing  but  roam  the  beaches,  rain  and 
shine,  seeing  the  billows  lash  themselves  on  ledges  or 
shovel  sand  on  the  bar.  Day  after  day  the  surf  was 
dashing  high  all  along  shore,  like  drifting  snow.  The 


THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE,  8 1 

spray  so  filled  the  air  that  the  island  was  like  a  great 
ship  at  anchor  riding  out  the  gale.  And  Cephas  idled 
with  me  in  these  days,  growing,  I  thought,  strong  and 
healthy-toned  like  the  sea;  though  sometimes  a  fresh 
tumult  of  waves  broke  over  him  for  an  hour,  as  if  the 
storm  in  his  soul  would  never  be  still. 

One  day  going  past  the  Phantom  House,  I  saw  that 
the  storm  had  broken  off  a  branch  of  the  buttonwood 
and  hurled  it  smash  against  one  of  the  kitchen  win 
dows.  In  repairing  the  damage  by  putting  up  close 
board  shutters  outside,  I  saw  everything  about  the 
room  standing  as  the  housewife  had  left  it,  as  if  she 
had  gone  out  for  an  hour.  And  the  knowledge  that  no 
door  had  been  opened,  and  that  no  step  had  fallen  on 
that  floor  since  she  cleared  up  the  tea  table  that  fatal 
night,  so  impressed  me  that  I  could  no  longer  bear  to 
look  at  the  house  as  I  had  done.  I  almost  instinctively 
found  myself  avoiding  the  sight  of  it,  or  catching  it 
only  in  glances,  as  if  the  dead  wife  was  still  dwelling  in 
it  alone.  And  my  imagination  penetrated  that  room, 
where  the  garments  of  the  dead  were  still  hanging  over 
the  arm  chair  in  front  of  the  fire  place.  I  did  not 
wonder  that  Cephas  could  not  enter  the  house,  though 
I  had  once  or  twice  urged  it  upon  him  in  order  to 
break  the  spell. 

That  house  was  like  a  tomb,  standing  for  the  dead's 
sake,  and  not  to  be  opened  for  light  reasons.  That  the 
old  buttonwood  should  turn  foe,  and  violate  the  sanc 
tity  of  the  place,  brought  Cephas  down  again  in  all  the 
bitterness  of  woe :  so  sensitive  is  sorrow.  Although 


82  THE  PHANTOM  HOUSE. 

he  said  nothing,  I  could  see  that  the  great  deeps  were 
again  broken  up.  And  when  I  left  the  island  a  day  or 
two  after,  we  parted  almost  in  despair :  for  I  could  see 
no  bright  prospect  before  him  unless  he  should  get 
away;  and  he  could  not  for  himself  staying,  and  go  he 
would  not.  So  that  the  diversion  of  my  visit  seemed 
likely  to  be  of  no  permanent  advantage.  I  had  seen 
hope  resting  on  him  for  a  moment,  and  flying  away  \  as 
a  bird  of  passage  stops  at  sea  on  a  foundered  ship,  and 
then  wings  over  the  waves  again. 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  83 


VI. 
RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

SOON  after  Cephas  and  I  had  separated  in  great 
darkness,  the  Lord  appeared  to  him  with  a  power 
never  known  before.  He  was  able  to  pray  again. 

In  the  strange  experience  of  a  soul  bereft  there  are 
months  together  when  the  heavens  are  brass  and  the 
earth  iron,  and  all  attempts  to  pray  are  made  ineffect 
ual  by  the  sight  of  some  haunted  house  or  mound  of 
earth.  Not  knowing  it  then,  I  know  it  now.  In  these 
great  tempests  the  soul  can  never  lie  becalmed ;  it  must 
move  toward  God  or  away  from  Him.  God's  child  will 
draw  near  and  speak  to  the  Father ;  and  the  heavenly 
answer  will  fill  the  soul  with  rapture. 

When,  therefore,  the  Divine  Compassion  finally  led 
the  pastor  to  think  more  of  service  than  of  sorrow,  and 
the  presence  of  the  living  Comforter  more  than  of  a 
buried  love,  there  dawned  a  new  day  upon  him.  And, 
henceforth,  he  had  one  rule,  that  whenever  he  was 
tempted  to  think  of  his  sorrow  he  would  think  of  Christ 
instead. 

After  returning  home  the  first  letter  I  received  from 
Cephas  had  these  words: — "Were  God  present,  kings 


84  RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

and  cow-herds  would  seem  alike  insignificant  to  us: 
when  He  is  in  the  closet  with  us,  we  pay  no  heed  to  the 
raptures  or  the  wretchedness  of  this  world.  Tumultu 
ous  joy,  violent  sorrow,  and  all  mental  agitation,  give 
place  to  a  heavenly  calm;  and  the  peace  of  God  fills 
the  earth." 

Letter  after  letter  came  revealing  what  I  had  noticed 
in  my  visit,  that  the  pastor's  great  sorrow  was  making 
itself  felt  in  the  sermons  and  in  the  parochial  work. 
Old  truths  were  shown  in  new  lights  with  a  new  man 
ner,  as  if  with  him  all  things  had  become  new.  His 
love,  sympathy,  tenderness,  severity  and  decision  in 
dealing  with  souls,  were  all  quickened.  He  seemed  to 
have  a  sense  of  sin  unknown  before,  as  if  he  had  been 
down  into  the  deeps ;  and  he  had  new  ^iews  of  the  rela 
tion  of  God  to  man,  as  a  Father  and  as  the  Sovereign 
Disposer.  And  when  he  now  cried,  "Behold  the  Lamb 
of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  it  was 
apparent  to  all  that  he  had  learned  in  the  school  of  suf 
fering  things  never  taught  in  the  schools  of  the  proph 
ets.  The  desolation  of  the  pastor's  house  was,  appar 
ently,  one  of  the  conditions  for  gladdening  the  homes 
of  his  people. 

All  that  springtime  and  early  summer,  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  moved  upon  the  face  of  the  waters  which 
washed  the  Island  Home;  and  Christ  himself  went 
forth  with  the  fishermen  day  by  day,  or  brought  spirit 
ual  healing  into  their  houses. 

Before  my  visit  to  the  Island  Home,  a  young  man 
leaving  home  for  a  long  voyage,  paused  a  moment  for  a 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  85 

last  word  with  his  father  and  mother  after  the  gate  had 
been  shut  between  them.  He  asked  that  they  would 
pray  for  him.  They  had  led  godless  lives,  and  not  one 
of  the  three  knew  much  about  praying;  but  the  request 
often  silently  presented  itself  to  the  mind  of  the  pa 
rents.  After  some  months  they  began  to  pray  in 
earnest  for  the  son  and  for  themselves,  each  unknown 
to  the  other.  In  due  time  came  a  letter  from  sea,  say 
ing  that  the  son  had  commenced  a  Christian  life  near 
the  time  when  they  began  to  pray ;  and  he  was  now  urg 
ing  all  prayer  for  their  conversion.  So  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  wrought  upon  land  and  sea,  with  each  soul 
alone.  The  father  and  mother  now  communicated  with 
each  other,  and  erected  the  family  altar ;  and  after  sev 
eral  weeks  they  began  to  go  to  religious  meetings,  to 
the  great  astonishment  of  those  who  had  known  their 
hardihood  in  sin. 

This  was  soon  after  my  visit  to  Cephas,  and  it  was 
the  immediate  occasion  for  developing  a  new  interest  in 
spiritual  things  in  all  the  community.  One  and  an 
other  came  out  into  the  light,  who  had  been  sitting  in 
great  darkness  during  months  and  even  years.  Some 
had  been  so  burdened  with  a  sense  of  sin  that  they  had 
pursued  their  ordinary  cares  with  tears  in  their  eyes  day 
after  day,  month  after  month,  and,  in  one  or  two  cases, 
year  after  year.  The  field  was  white  for  the  harvest, 
and  no  man  knew  it,  till  one  day  an  aged  man  who 
lived  much  in  the  closet  went  to  the  pastor  saying, 
"The  Lord  is  certainly  coming  to  visit  his  people." 
And  when  the  old  shipmaster  and  his  wife  told  their 


86  RISING  FROM   THE  DEAD. 

strange  story  the  ripened  fruit  was  touched,  and  it  fell 
to  the  ground. 

That  very  night  the  floor  of  the  little  schoor-house 
was  filled,  as  the  members  of  the  church,  one  by  one, 
left  their  seats  and  came  forward  to  confess  their  sins  to 
each  other  and  to  the  Lord.  And  when,  a  few  days 
after,  the  converted  sailor  returned  from  sea,  filled 
with  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  and  with  consuming  zeal  to 
plead  privately  with  old  companions  in  sin,  urging  them 
to  accept  his  Saviour,  the  movement  began  to  sweep 
forward.  And  the  lone  working  of  the  Spirit  with  men 
apart  in  their  own  homes,  showed  plainly  that  it  was 
not  to  be  accounted  for  solely  on  the  ground  of  so 
cial  excitement.  To  the  house  of  his  pastor  came  a 
young  man,  who  lived  at  a  distance,  through  a  heavy 
drifting  snow-storm  long  before  the  break  of  day,  say 
ing:-— 

"  I  have  served  the  devil  long  enough ;  and  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  now  to  serve  the  Lord." 

It  was  a  practical  kind  of  religion  that  fastened  on 
the  people,  turning  them  into  new  courses  of  life.  One 
man  was  praying  all  night  in  a  barn,  pleading  for  peace 
with  God.  Toward  morning,  he  felt  that  before  God 
would  forgive  him,  he  must  forgive  his  own  foes  and 
have  them  forgive  his  rascalities.  He  went  at  once  and 
waked  up  his  wife's  relatives,  with  whom  he  had  quar 
reled  for  years,  and  made  full  confession  and  full  recon 
ciliation. 

In  this  time  of  general  awakening  my  friend  forgot  to 
look  at  the  empty  house  on  the  hill,  and  even  for  a 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  87 

time  neglected  to  go  to  the  grave  to  weep  there.  Work 
in  the  Master's  vineyard  diverted  him  from  morbid 
reflections. 

In  the  month  of  August  I  went  to  Nuntundale  again. 
We  made  a  long  tramp  to  the  mountain  district  in  the 
north  of  the  island,  and  there  camped  some  weeks. 
Just  before  we  left  the  high  road  for  the  by-ways  of  the 
hill  country,  we  crossed  a  stone  bridge  thrown  over  a 
salt  creek  which  pours  into  the  channel  on  the  west 
of  the  island.  I  could  see  off  to  the  left  a  spire  that 
marked  the  last  settlement  in  the  north,  where  there 
was  a  ferry  leading  to  the  mainland.  Here  we  rested  a 
little  time,  stretching  ourselves  on  the  cordwood  which 
in  long  piles  was  waiting  transportation. 

"ift  was  just  here,"  said  Cephas,  "that  my  brother 
and  I  separated,  when  we  both  had  started  to  run 
away.  An  old  pine  log,  weather-worn  and  water- 
soaked,  left  by  some  high  tide  in  a  great  storm,  was 
lying  on  the  edge  of  the  marsh  at  this  turn  of  the  road. 
We  sat  down  upon  it  to  rest,  as  we  do  now  j  and  debated 
whether  to  go  back  or  keep  on.  We  rose;  I  went 
back,  and  he  kept  on.  He  crossed  the  ferry  to  the 
main,  and  took  shipping  to  the  eastward ;  and  I  never 
saw  him  again.  From  what  father  could  learn,  we  sup 
pose  that  he  must  have  been  killed  in  the  provinces  a 
few  months  afterwards  by  the  Indians." 

Cephas'  brother,  it  seems,  ran  away  in  resisting  re 
ligious  convictions:  being  determined  to  get  rid  of 
home  influences  and  the  moral  pressure  which  rested 


88  RISING  FROM  THE   DEAD. 

upon  him  constantly  in  the  house  of  his  mother.  I 
could  not  learn  that  his  mother  was  peculiarly  injudi 
cious  ;  but  he  was  a  very  self-willed,  independent  lad 
with  a  strong  love  for  adventure.  He  began  to  rock  in 
the  boats  of  the  fishermen  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  his 
cradle;  and  longed  to  attempt  the  world  as  early  as 
possible.  Although  his  conscience  kept  at  him  to  be 
come  a  Christian,  he  had  a  very  strong  distaste  for 
spiritual  things.  And  Cephas  himself  was  much  in  the 
same  case,  strong  in  spirit,  self-reliant,  impatient  to  cut 
out  his  own  career,  and  somehow  strongly  set  against 
yielding  to  the  home  training  which  so  powerfully  led 
in  the  way  of  a  Christian  life ;  though  the  principle  of 
filial  obedience  was  more  prominent  in  his  character 
than  in  that  of  his  brother. 

Their  mother  was  not  only  kind  after  the  common 
sort,  but  of  very  deep  sympathies  to  put  herself  in  the 
place  of  her  children.  Her  religious  nature  was  so 
strong  that  every  one  felt  its  influence  who  was  brought 
in  contact  with  her.  Every  week  since  her  boys  could 
remember,  she  had  prayed  with  each  alone,  and  con 
versed  with  them  about  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  and 
His  warm  love  for  them,  and  the  Divine  help  in  their 
common  struggles  with  sin.  But  the  devil  took  strong 
hold  on  them  both;  or  according  to  Cephas'  account 
of  it,  they  took  hold  on  the  devil.  The  Holy  One  also 
bore  a  part  in  the  contest  for  the  boys.  It  became  hot 
work;  and  the  evil  angel  persuaded  them  to  run  away. 
The  battle  was  fought  out  on  this  log.  Here  in  this 
obscure  wayside  spot,  where  sleds  from  the  wood  meet 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  89 

scows  from  the  sea,  was  a  great  victory  and  a  sad 
defeat. 

As  we  once  more  took  to  the  road,  I  questioned 
Cephas  again  and  again  for  his  old  stories  of  Nuntun- 
dale  life  and  his  early  home,  which  he  had  related  to 
me  so  often  when  we  were  boys  together,  and  very 
particularly  one  long  string  of  fish  stories  which  he  first 
told  me  on  a  dark  and  rainy  evening,  when  we  were 
catching  horn  pouts  in  a  shallow  cove  of  Lake  Penna- 
cook. 

Our  camping  place,  which  we  reached  next  day,  was 
by  the  side  of  a  high  forest  lake  in  the  heart  of  the 
hills,  where  a  wild  stream  poured  in.  There  was  a 
little  cave  in  the  rocks  half  veiled  by  vines;  and  the 
growth  at  that  point  was  open,  of  yellow  birch  five  or 
six  flftt  in  girth.  Across  the  lake  appeared  the  stern 
desolation  of  mountain  scenery,  with  high  crags  over 
hanging  the  water.  Going  out  upon  the  glassy  waves 
we  could  see  behind  our  camp,  and  east,  and  west, 
shattered  masses  of  rock  rising  to  the  dignity  of  small 
mountains  from  twelve  to  eighteen  hundred  feet  high. 
All  these  hills  slope  gently  to  the  north,  but  are  precip 
itous  on  the  south.  The  slopes  are  clothed  with  forest ; 
but  the  southern  faces  are  very  abrupt,  ragged  and 
torn,  cut  with  sharp  chasms,  rough  with  broken  ledges, 
and  rendered  unsightly  by  a  criss-cross  mixture  of 
living,  dying  and  dead  trees,  shrubs  and  thorn  bushes. 

When  we  were  out  in  our  flat-bottomed  boat  we  felt 
fierce  gusts  of  wind  coming  through  the  gorges  or 
sweeping  down  from  the  shoulders  of  the  hills,  when- 


90  RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

ever  showers  were  coming  up  or  when  the  wind  was 
changing.  In  our  hemlock  lodge  at  the  cave's  mouth, 
we  were  sometimes  awaked  at  midnight  by  the  wind 
suddenly  rising  and  roaring  among  the  mountains; 
then  all  would  be  quiet  again  in  half  an  hour.  So  were 
we  fanned  by  mighty  hands,  while  cities  were  swelter 
ing.  More  than  once,  we  went  out  upon  the  lake,  long 
after  nightfall,  to  waken  the  echoes,  which  sleep  among 
the  hills. 

Many  days  were  spent  upon  the  tops  of  the  moun 
tains,  searching  out  their  different  views  of  forest  and 
sea,  and  watching  the  motions  of  the  clouds,  as  their 
dark  shadows  swiftly  sailed  over  unmeasured  leagues 
of  wave  and  wood.  The  sea,  in  sweeping  around  the 
head  of  the  island,  comes  very  near  the  base  of  the  hills 
west  and  east,  and  close  to  the  high  point  on  the^lorth 
opposite  our  shelter.  The  deep  indentation  of  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  island  abounds  in  ledges  cropping 
out  of  the  waves;  sometimes  bare,  or,  again,  having 
two  or  three  lone  trees  like  ships  with  green  sails;  and 
occasionally  considerable  areas  of  rock  and  soil  and 
tangled  wood.  There  are  perhaps  a  dozen  islands  of 
some  magnitude.  A  great  part  of  the  water-way  be 
tween  these  mountains  and  the  Bald  Cliff  at  the  other 
extremity  of  the  island  near  Cephas'  house,  is  filled 
with  these  islets.  They  are  very  picturesque,  but  prove 
sad  stumbling  stones  in  the  way  of  mariners.  These 
little  crumbs  and  clippings  of  land  upon  the  one  side, 
together  with  the  windings  of  the  western  channel 
which  is  often  very  wide,  give  the  impression  as  seen 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  91 

from  the  mountain  tops  that  one  is  in  the  midst  of  a 
great  lake  district,  made  up  by  scores  of  fingers  and 
arms  of  the  sea  thrust  into  uncounted  scraps  of  land. 
Not  uncounted,  however.  There  are  just  three  hun 
dred  and  sixty-six  islands  in  this  archipelago ;  Lake 
Millenoket  in  Maine,  Casco  Bay,  Lake  George,  and 
Lake  Winnipiseogee  having  exactly  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  each.  Nuntundale  archipelago  was  made 
leap  year. 

The  steepest  sides  of  these  hills  bear  abundance  of 
berries,  and  the  woods  are  alive  with  small  game. 
Stream  and  lake  are  well  stocked  with  fish.  About  a 
mile  southwest  of  us  was  a  clearing  and  small  farm ; 
which  was  our  grocery,  hen  house  and  dairy.  Through 
this  farm  runs  the  outlet  of  the  lake,  with  mouth  in  the 
westAi  channel. 

While  we  were  in  camp  the  settler's  wife  died  sud 
denly.  And  I  happened  there  the  same  day.  Having 
first  recited  some  of  the  customary  texts  of  comfort,  I 
asked  him  if  I  should  read  the  Bible  and  pray  with  him. 
Then  I  went  to  the  distant  town  to  make  ready  for  the 
funeral.  Next  day  Cephas  went  with  me  to  the  house, 
and  he  scarcely  seemed  to  notice  the  bereaved  man 
when  he  entered  the  room,  but  sat  down  in  silence 
covering  his  face  with  his  hand.  After  a  few  moments 
he  drew  his  chair  to  the  side  of  the  husband,  and 
placing  his  hand  upon  him,  said, — 

"  I  know  all  about  it.     I  have  been  through  it  all." 

Then  he  was  quiet.  And  when  the  wounded  man 
laid  his  arm  upon  Cephas'  shoulder  and  wept,  I  saw 


92  RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

the  strange  freemasonry  of  grief  which  made  these 
men  brethren.  By  and  by  Cephas  dropped  upon  his 
knees  and  prayed  : — 

"We  have  said,  O  Lord,  'Thy  will  be  done;'  but  we 
have  not  known  what  we  were  saying.  Is  it  Thy  will, 
Our  Father,  that  our  homes  should  be  broken  up  ? 

"  Thy  judgments  are  a  great  deep.  Plunging  among 
the  billows  we  rebel  against  Thee.  But  rebuke  us  not 
in  anger,  neither  chasten  us  in  hot  displeasure. 

"  Our  sorrow  is  continually  before  us.  Make  there 
fore  Thy  face  to  shine  in  the  place  of  darkness.  Our 
souls  wait  for  Thee  more  than  they  that  watch  for  the 
morning." 

This  was  uttered  amid  the  sobbings  of  two  men, 
with  slow  and  measured  emphasis  j  and  every  word  was 
made  the  prayer  of  him  whose  sorrow  was  freRi,  as 
truly  as  of  him  who  had  the  elder  grief.  When  Cephas 
had  again  sat  silently  for  some  time  holding  the  suf 
ferer  by  the  hand,  he  rose  up  with  these  words, — 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  said.  All  we  can  do  is  to 
pray.  You  cannot  do  that  now.  I  will  try  to  pray  for 
you." 

As  Cephas  went  out,  I  followed,  thinking  that  I  did 
not  know  much  about  comforting  the  sorrowful  with 
my  glib  tongue  and  ready  texts.  Grief  is  a  deeper 
thing  than  I  then  knew. 

It  was  while  we  were  in  this  camp  that  Cephas  told 
me  for  the  first  and  only  time  some  things  about  the 
dead  Helen.  They  had  loved  each  other  as  little  chil 
dren.  Her  parents  occupied  a  part  of  the  Phantom 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  93 

House ;  and  she  was  born  there  soon  after  Cephas  as  a 
child  moved  into  it.  Helen  became  like  a  sister  to 
him ;  and  he  seemed  nearer  to  her  than  her  own  broth 
ers,  who  were  of  coarser  make.  These  young  friends 
were  very  fond  of  "playing  cousin,"  as  they  called  it; 
sitting  on  the  limbs  of  the  orchard  or  the  sill  of  the 
woodshed,  and  in  the  thousand  and  one  places  where 
children  love  to  play.  In  this  game  of  kindred  they 
told  the  most  marvelous  tales  of  foreign  travel,  and 
imaginary  adventure  of  every  sort;  an  amusement 
with  all  the  charm  of  fairy  story,  and  wonderfully  stim 
ulating  to  the  inventive  faculty.  Helen's  religious  life, 
early  developed,  had  a  great  influence  upon  Cephas; 
and,  from  one  thing  he  said,  I  was  led  to  think  that 
this  was  a  make-weight  in  the  scales  he  balanced,  when 
he  sat  on  the  log  debating  whether  to  keep  on  with 
his  runaway  brother. 

During  the  years  in  which  Cephas  and  I  were  lads 
together,  and  in  his  school  days,  he  kept  up  a  corre 
spondence  with  Helen  at  intervals.  Oddly  enough,  as 
it  seemed  to  me,  their  friendship  had  never  taken  other 
shape  than  that  of  brother  and  sister.  Much  as  they 
loved  each  other,  they  had  at  that  age  no  sentiment 
which  looked  forward  to  a  common  walk  together 
through  life.  And  when  Cephas  actually  "fell  in  love," 
it  was  not  with  Helen.  He  dreamed  by  night  and  by 
day  of  one  who  certainly  never  lost  a  wink  of  sleep  on 
his  account :  but  he  learned  eventually  to  look  on  these 
sweet  months  of  agony  as  affording  a  pleasant  insight 
into  the  common  experiences  of  the  race,  without 


94  RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

which  he  could  have  hardly  deemed  himself  human; 
and  the  whole  thing  was  Jaid  away  in  a  corner  of  his 
mind  to  afford  sometime  a  paragraph  in  book-making, 
as  Goethe  looked  on  the  different  phases  of  life  as  only 
the  stuff  to  make  into  poems  or  tales. 

And  Helen  upon  her  part  had  just  the  slightest  tend 
ency  to  minute  flirtations,  and  was  not  in  the  least  in 
clined  to  look  with  favor  upon  the  rejected  Cephas, 
when,  upon  a  high  hill  overlooking  a  broad  river  with 
wide  intervals,  he  suggested  a  formal  contract  of  life 
companionship.  But  she  had  a  morbid  fondness  for 
graveyards ;  and,  a  long  time  after,  he  won  her  at  the 
tombstone  of  their  most  intimate  common  friend,  who 
had  been  sleeping  for  years.  An- infant  pine  and  baby 
oak  were,  therefore,  planted  on  the  same  day ;  and  the 
plighted  friends  partook  together  of  a  butternut  feast. 
The  ill-omened  trees  died  in  front  of  the  Phantom 
House,  first  the  pine,  then  the  oak,  long  before  that 
house  was  shut  up  by  the  death  angel. 

Almost  every  forenoon  of  the  first  summer  they 
spent  together  in  their  Island  Home,  they  visited  the 
crag  where  Helen's  body  now  reposes.  This  was  Ce 
phas'  study.  They  had  joy  and  sorrow  of  their  child. 
Then,  after  Helen's  death,  there  came  to  Cephas,  for 
many  months,  a  sense  of  physical  weight  resting  on 
heart  and  brain,  and  semi-madness  interrupted  by  short 
seasons  of  quiet  submission  and  of  sturdy  rebellion. 

Further  than  this  I  never  learned  much  about  Helen. 
Cephas  was  silent  as  the  grave.  Her  grandest  charac 
teristic  seems  to  have  been  this, —  that  with  a  well-pro- 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  95 

portioned  mind  she  had  great  power  of  loving  and 
leading.  And  her  influence  on  the  whole  was  the  most 
salutary  of  any  earthly  power  to  which  he  was  ever 
subjected. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  that  house  ? "  asked  Cephas, 
after  we  had  broken  camp  arid  begun  our  tramp  home 
down  the  east  of  the  island,  purposing  to  follow 

"  the  beached  margent  of  the  sea." 

"  I  have  not  been  near  it,  and  I  cannot,  and  will  not. 
I  wish  you  would  burn  it  for  me.  And  then  I'll  leave 
its  ashes,  and  go  to  some  other  village  to  work." 
Finding  that  I  made  no  answer,  he  added, — 
"It  seems,  sometimes,  as  if  I  had  been  pursuing  a 
shadow  all  my  life ;  and  that  my  love  for  Helen  as  my 
sister  and  my  wife  was  a  vain  thing,  that  she  was  a 
mere  phantom,  dreamed  of  in  a  night  and  mourned  for 
in  the  morning.  I  should  know  this  to  be  so,  if  it  were 
not  for  three  things, —  that  crag,  that  house,  and  my  own 
character  modified  by  her  hand.  Perhaps  I'd  better 
burn  the  house :  for  I  will  never  see  the  inside  of  it,  or 
let  anybody  else.  And  I'll  take  my  character  and  carry 
it  off.  After  years  have  passed,  when  I  am  changed 
through  new  work  and  new  circumstances,  I  shall 
look  back  and  always  believe  that  I  have  had  a  phan 
tom  wife,  and  that  the  whole  ghostly  story  is  untrue. 
I  shall  remember  it  only  as  a  beloved  shadow  which 
followed  me  in  the  bright  sunshine  of  life's  morning, 
disappearing  when  clouds  arose  to  hide  the  heavens 


96  RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

and  darken  the  earth.  And  when,  now  in  a  little 
while,  my  eyes,  long  too  dim  to  discern  the  face  of 
Jesus,  again  behold  Him  as  He  is,  He  will  be  to  me 
my  constant  companion,  and  I  shall  be  content  The 
opening  heavens  will  sometime  give  me  my  own  again  ; 
but  we  shall  then  be  so  thoroughly  wedded  to  the  lov 
ing  God,  that  we  shall  forget  to  blame  Him  for  any 
fancied  unkindness  in  His  strange  dealing  with  us  in 
that  house  on  the  hill." 

We  walked  on  silently  until  we  came  to  the  shore  of 
the  sea,  when  Cephas  called  to  mind  the  theory  of 
some  of  Augustine's  contemporaries  that  the  Latin 
name  for  "bath"  derived  its  name  from  its  power  to 
remove  mental  depression.  We  took  a  salt  bath,  and 
talked  no  more  of  graves  or  unsightly  houses. 

That  night,  looking  back  to  the  mountains,  we  saw  a 
red  cloud  at  sunset  reposing  on  the  peak  which  stood 
west  of  the  lake.  After  sunset,  hard  featured  clouds 
marked  the  western  sky.  The  wind  freshened ;  and  an 
hour  before  daybreak,  thrusting  my  head  from  out  our 
covering,  I  saw  that  whole  mountain  a  pyramid  of  fire. 
In  the  tornado  of  flames,  that  swept  from  the  north 
west  over  the  peak  and  through  the  timber  toward  our 
camp,  the  settler's  house  was  burned. 

A  few  months  later,  when  the  year  was  about  to 
come  round  after  Helen's  death,  I  went  again  to  Nun- 
tundale.  As  that  fatal  day  dawned,  all  through  its 
gloomy  hours  and  in  the  early  evening,  Cephas  seemed 
so  much  depressed,  and  his  conduct  was  so  singu- 


RISING  FROM   THE  DEAD.  97 

lar,  that  I  felt  for  the  first  time  thoroughly  alarmed. 
When,  therefore,  about  bedtime,  he  put  on  his  great 
coat  and  went  out  into  the  moonlight,  I  secretly  fol 
lowed  him.  I  saw  him  stealthily  approach  the  Phan 
tom  House  and  sit  down  upon  the  doorstep,  covering 
his  face  with  his  hands.  So  long  a  time  passed  that  I 
grew  weary  of  watching,  and  when  I  again  looked  that 
way  he  had  gone.  Hastening  to  the  house,  I  found 
that  a  window  had  been  opened  in  the  sitting  room; 
and  drawing  near  I  heard  my  friend's  voice : — 

"  I  give,  O  Lord,  this  house  to  Thee,  with  all  its 
precious  and  painful  memories.  Take  it  and  use  it. 
Fill  it  with  Thy  presence,  and  then  I  shall  think  of  no 
other  presence  here."  Then  the  voice  was  low,  and  I 
only  heard  uncertain  words  relating  to  "the  old  red 
trunk."  And  then  the  question, — "  Is  not  life,  O  Lord, 
made  for  work  and  not  for  mourning?" 

In  the  long  silence  which  followed,  I  saw,  in  the  full 
moon's  light,  that  he  was  kneeling  at  the  arm  chair 
with  the  dress  of  the  dying  hanging  at  its  back,  and  the 
New  Testament  in  his  hands.  And  I  could  not  resist 
the  suggestion  made  by  my  privileged  friendship  to 
enter  and  kneel  by  his  side,  which  I  did  without  appar 
ently  attracting  his  attention. 

"Let  me,  O  Holy  One,"  I  said,  "be  instructed  by 
sorrow  without  passing  through  it.  Make  my  heart 
soft  with  sympathy  for  wounded  souls;  and  make  my 
hands  hard  with  toil  for  them.  And  may  I  sometime 
know  what  it  is  to  say  '  Thy  will  be  done.' 

"  No,  O  Lord,  I  dare  not  pray  so.  Not  yet  can  I 
5 


98  RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD. 

ask  to  be  taught  that  lesson.  Not  yet  am  I  ready  to  be 
torn  in  pieces,  and  thrown  helpless  at  Thy  feet.  Nev 
ertheless,  teach  me  if  I  must  know  it.  And  let  not  my 
life  pass  by  without  life's  best  discipline. 

"  And  now,  Thou  Infinite  Spirit,  fill  this  house,  and 
make  it  fit  for  habitation.  Thou  who  art  the  Compan 
ion  of  men,  Bridegroom  of  the  soul,  take  Thou  this 
lonely  man.  May  he  bear  the  choicest  of  earthly 
names,  and  be  called  *  the  friend  of  the  Bridegroom.' 
Place  Thy  loving  hand  upon  him.  And  may  this 
desolated  house  be  one  of  Thy  many  mansions.  Pre 
pare  it  for  him  with  such  furnishing  that  here  and  now 
he  may  find  heaven  in  it." 

We  went  to  the  shore,  and  Cephas  flung  the  casket 
key  into  the  deep  waters.  And  the  next  morning  I 
saw  another  key  upon  his  study  table,  marked  "The 
Old  Red  Trunk." 

Those  who  are  novices  in  grief  need  not  read  the 
wicked  thing  I  am  about  to  say.  But  those  who  have 
grown  old  in  sorrows  must  have  learned  to  do  one  of 
the  most  fearful  things  we  can  dream  of,  in  deliberately 
turning  their  backs  on  dear  graves  and  forgetting  the 
dead.  The  most  sensitive  spirits  in  the  world  come  so 
near  to  the  bitterness  of  death  or  to  madness  in  their 
experience  of  suffering,  that  as  a  mere  sanitary  measure 
they  must  firmly,  in  unutterable  agony,  turn  away  from 
the  dead.  For  the  love  of  God  they  must  do  it.  They 
must  not  use  up  all  the  powers  of  life  in  mourning,  but 
turn  away  and  seek  to  serve  the  living.  Who  does  not 
know  that  we  may  not  dare  to  get  all  the  benefit  of  our 


RISING  FROM   THE  DEAD.  99 

greatest  griefs  in  this  life  ?  From  many  of  our  heaviest 
sorrows  we  receive  some  advantage,  then  we  are  com 
pelled  by  the  weakness  of  the  flesh  to  lay  them  aside 
for  a  time,  and  recur  to  them  as  we  can  bear  it  j  but  we 
can  hardly  hope  to  have  strength  to  face  them  fully  till 
we  are  rid  of  our  flesh.  And  then,  perhaps,  we  shall 
be  so  taken  up  with  the  glory  revealed  that  we  shall 
forget  that  we  had  great  complaints  to  make  to  our 
God. 

Late  in  the  winter,  I  received  a  letter  from  Cephas, 
in  which  it  appeared  that  he  was  living  in  the  Phantom 
House,  at  work  on  the  Red  Trunk. 

"  I  had  a  terrible  time  in  re-arranging  the  house.  I 
am  not  yet  myself  again.  God  leads  me,  and  I  cling 
fast  to  His  hand,  sadly  stumbling  in  the  way  and  blind 
with  tears.  Whether  on  the  whole  I  grow  strong 
or  weak  I  cannot  tell.  I  think  that  I  am  growing 
stronger,  for  I  suppose  the  process  ought  to  tend  to 
that  j  but  it  is  a  very  weakening  way  through  which  to 
gain  strength." 

A  month  later  he  wrote : — 

"  I  know  that  somehow  I  have  come  into  possession 
of  a  mourning  ring.  A  wicker  work  basket  is  on  my 
table,  with  thimbles  and  needles  and  half-finished  work. 
Articles  of  woman's  dress  and  ornament  are  continually 
in  sight.  I  find,  too,  a  closet  and  trunkful  of  cloth 
ing  and  housewife's  work.  How  I  came  into  the  pos 
session  I  know  not.  I  do  not  dare  to  search  the  past 
and  find  out.  I  have  bitter  pictures  in  my  mind  that  I 


loo  RISING  FROM   THE  DEAD. 

shut  off  as  soon  as  they  appear.  I  remember  a  casket, 
and  funeral  songs,  and  a  winter  scene  at  the  grave's 
mouth.  I  have  also  in  mind  what  would  be  the  glad 
dest  scenes  in  life ;  but  they  are  so  deeply  shrouded  in 
black  that  I  dare  not  think  of  them.  I  am  conscious 
that  my  inner  man  has  been  greatly  changed  within  a 
few  years ;  I  have  however  no  heart  to  analyze  the 
matter.  I  only  drive  straight  on  with  no  retrospect; 
and  pray  God  for  help  to  do  His  will  each  day.  I  am 
satisfied  that  I  can  never  think  my  way  out  of  these 
difficulties,  but  I  can  work  my  way  out." 

As  the  religious  quickening  of  his  people  the  year 
before  had  begun  to  divert  him  from  his  grief,  and  to 
reform  his  shattered  habits  of  work,  so  now  a  rigid  ad 
herence  to  the  business  of  putting  an  extension  on  his 
Red  Trunk,  led  him  little  by  little  into  a  normal  state 
again.  And  the  cultivation  of  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Heavenly  Friend  gave  his  heart  rest.  The  tendrils  of 
love  fastened  more  and  more  upon  the  Undying  One. 
By  personal  contact  and  by  his  letters  I  saw  the  work 
going  on,  a  man  deliberately  shutting  off  the  precious 
thoughts  of  grief,  when  half  their  treasure  had  not 
been  wrung  from  them.  And  I  saw,  month  after 
month,  that  he  was  still  afflicted  though  consoled,  as 
the  sea  is  still  rough  long  after  the  heavens  are  clear 
and  the  storm  is  past, 

During  many  years,  amid  all  the  eagerness  of  new 
courses  of  life,  the  memory  of  the  old  grief  came 
sweeping  in  most  mournfully  through  the  early  months 
of  winter.  Looking  back  now  I  can  see  that  while  the 


RISING  FROM  THE  DEAD.  101 

Holy  One  forsook  him  not,  he  rather  needed  the  loving 
hand  of  an  earthly  companion,  for  his  lonely  life  in 
later  years  lacked  a  little  that  nice  balance  and  fair  pro 
portion  which  Helen's  friendship  was  likely  to  give. 
He  needed  to  be  anchored  to  a  good  home.  "  Where 
no  hedge  is  there  the  possession  is  spoiled :  and  he 
that  hath  no  wife  will  wander  up  and  down  mourning." 
It  shames  me  that  I  was  no  more  to  him  than  I  was. 
But  he  clung  to  me  after  Helen's  death.  And  though 
I  had  my  own  house  in  time,  yet  so  far  as  man  and 
man  can  be  one  in  love  we  were  more  thoroughly 
united  than  when  we  were  children  or  in  the  earlier 
manhood.  As  the  interior  life  unfolded  our  love  grew 
stronger,  and  somehow  we  fitted  the  better  into  each 
other's  personal  peculiarities.  His  thoughts  of  Helen 
fastened  upon  her  new  experiences  in  the  heavenly 
country.  And  no  child's  vision  of  life  in  the  romantic 
isles  of  distant  seas  is  so  sweet  as  that  which  every 
friend  has  of  a  future  reunion  with  loved  ones  in  the 
Unseen  Country.  Do  we  not  love  our  God  the  more 
for  that  wisdom  which  so  made  us  that  we  need  finite 
friends  as  well  as  the  Infinite.  For  human  love 

"  is  the  scale 
By  which  to  heavenly  love  thou  mayst  ascend." 


102  THE  FISHING    VILLAGE. 


VII. 
THE  FISHING  VILLAGE. 

CEPHAS'  Island  Home, —  his  birth  place  and  his 
house    of   sorrow, —  is    a   hallowed    memory   so 
sacred  that  I  hardly  allow  a  year  to  pass  without 
re-visiting  it.     While  it  is  not  now  as  it  was  then,  yet 
the  spot  where  Helen's  body  lies  is  a  shrine  to  which  I 
can  never  forget  to  make  my  pilgrimage. 

The  reader  will,  however,  bear  with  me,  if  I  also 
state  that  whenever  I  cross  the  bridge  from  the  Island 
Home,  and  enter  the  Fishing  Village  which  was  Ce 
phas'  parish,  my  emotions  are  altogether  of  another 
sort.  I  may  as  well  say  frankly  that  it  is  a  great  diver 
sion  to  me  to  go  there  year  by  year.  And  the  mental 
make  up  of  my  friend  Cephas  can  never  be  understood 
without  some  acquaintance  with  this  town;  since, 
whether  or  not  he  helped  make  the  town,  he  was  him 
self  marked  by  the  men  he  worked  with  and  by  the 
material  surroundings.  Cephas  always  expressed  the 
warmest  affection  for  the  people  of  this  village,  so  kind 
were  they,  so  frank,  so  hearty  in  good  traits  as  well  as 
bad ;  but  I  have  sometimes  thought  it  was,  after  all,  the 
quaintness  of  both  people  and  town,  which  held  him  so 


THE  FISHING    VILLAGE.  103 

fast  to  them  in  all  after  wanderings.  He  always  spoke 
of  this  village  as  his  home,  not  so  much  because  it  was 
associated  with  his  childhood,  as  on  account  of  his  con 
nection  with  it  in  more  mature  years.  He  loved  every 
rod  of  the  soil,  the  rocks  and  the  buildings,  and  all  the 
sinners  and  all  the  saints  who  dwelt  there. 

Men  and  women  abiding  in  sober  villages  inland, 
have  little  idea  of  the  way  people  live  in  some  of  these 
towns  by  the  sea.  The  Fishing  Village  is  a  queer  old 
place.  Rocky  ledges  rise  here  and  there  and  every 
where  between  the  streets,  so  that  the  houses  are 
nearly  all  backed  up  against  granite ;  and  the  roads  are 
so  crooked  that  all  foot  passengers  go  cross-lots,  and 
the  gardens  and  backyards  are  dignified  highways. 
Notices  to  keep  off  are  good-naturedly  put  up,  only  to 
show  bad  spelling  or  grammatical,  punctuational  and 
chirographical  errors.  Doctors  of  divinity  climb  fences 
like  boys;  and  you  may  look  out  your  back  window 
and  see  the  first  selectman  or  the  town  schoolmaster  or 
the  senior  deacon  walking  along  a  sharp  ledge  in  immi 
nent  danger  of  falling  into  your  hen-roost. 

The  buildings  are  cut  into  all  manner  of  shapes, 
some  like  a  doughnut  and  others  like  a  bowling-alley  or 
rope-walk.  Where  the  houses  are  founded  upon  a 
rock,  the  bottom  weatherboard  is  so  notched  and  whit 
tled  as  to  fit  snugly  the  uneven  surface.  Sometimes 
the  rocky  foundation  falls  off  steep  four  feet  from  the 
front  door;  and,  even  then,  all  the  modern  improve 
ments  have  to  be  brought  round  to  the  front  of  the 
house,  because  the  rear  is  so  pinched  up.  Children 


104  THE  FISHING    VILLAGE. 

slide  down  smooth  rocks  on  well  smoothed  seats,  wear 
ing  out  trowsers  and  skirts  in  a  manner  shocking  to 
everybody  but  the  mothers,  who  do  not  appear  to  mind 
it.  Goats  and  cows  stand  against  the  sky  upon  the  top 
of  precipitous  rocks  rising  sixty  feet  above  the  street, 
and  there  picturesquely  chew  and  meditate  in  the  early 
twilight. 

Many  old  houses  are  seen  where  three  or  four  gen 
erations  have  lived;  and  each  family  has  made  an 
addition  to  the  mansion  or  subtracted  from  it.  Several 
of  these  buildings  are  on  what  has  been  called  Hero 
street  since  the  war  for  the  Union.  There  are  not 
twenty  houses  on  it;  but  more  than  half  the  families 
suffered  from  wounds  or  death.  One  of  these  heroes 
in  the  trenches  at  Knoxville,  picked  off  seventeen  men 
in  one  day  with  his  rifle,  as  if  he  had  been  partridge 
shooting  in  the  north  woods. 

Some  of  the  houses  are  so  old  as  to  antedate  civiliza 
tion.  Here  is  one  log-house  which  has  worn  clap 
boards  so  long,  that  men  have  forgotten  what  it  is 
made  of.  Pull  off  this  painted  cuticle,  and  you  have 
one  of  the  first  settlers.  In  like  manner,  if  you  were  to 
tear  off  the  clapboards  on  the  front  side  of  the  princi 
pal  dry  goods  establishment  in  the  town,  you  would 
find  the  doors  of  a  barn. 

One  day  when  I  was  passing  through  the  village,  a 
house  which  had  been  occupied  as  a  tavern,  so  long 
ago  as  when  witches  were  swinging  in  Salem,  was  in 
process  of  demolition.  Like  an  aged  lobster  putting 
on  a  new  claw,  this  old  house  had  many  years  since 


THE  FISHING    VILLAGE.  105 

developed  on  one  of  its  extremities  a  new  dwelling ; 
but  in  this  case  the  claw  was  bigger  than  the  original 
lobster  and  better  too.  Hence,  as  the  years  rolled  by, 
the  old  shell  became  less  and  less  respectable;  till  at 
last  its  age  was  its  only  recommendation.  At  this 
crisis  the  old  thing  was  owned  by  a  Frenchman,  and 
the  new  thing  by  an  Irishman ;  the  former  every  inch  a 
hero  and  devoted  to  his  new  country,  and  the  latter  a 
most  estimable  citizen.  The  man  of  Erin,  however,  felt 
a  little  loath  to  separate  the  old  shell  from  his  house ; 
and  the  man  of  Gaul  wanted  the  ground  the  old  relic 
stood  on  to  raise  sorrel  for  his  delicious  soups.  More 
over,  the  Hibernian  had  in  his  chambers  a  tenant  not 
having  all  the  Christian  virtues ;  and  the  gentleman 
from  France,  as  great  a  tactician  in  his  way  as  Napo 
leon,  set  about  getting  rid  of  his  neighbor's  tenant  and 
his  own  old  house  by  the  same  bit  of  strategy. 

For  this  purpose  he  employed  a  good  hearted  fellow 
and  skilled  workman,  now  happily  a  sober  man  and 
excellent  neighbor,  but  then  burdened  year  after  year 
by  hard  bondage  to  his  cups.  He  is  now  ready  himself 
to  laugh  gaily  over  his  old  misadventures  as  well  as  to 
mourn  his  former  misery.  He  can  well  afford  to  be 
merry  before  men  and  thankful  before  God;  for  there 
is  no  man  in  his  town  who  has  proved  himself  to  be  so 
truly  a  nobleman  as  he  in  heroic  self-conquest  and 
triumph  over  temptation.  This  young  man  with  his 
bad  habits  was  put  into  the  old  tavern  house  for  a 
tenant ;  and.  by  the  time  he  had  several  sprees  the  Celt 
surrendered  at  discretion,  dismissed  his  termagant,  and 


106  THE  FISHING    VILLAGE. 

began  to  tear  the  old  house  down,  so  that  the  French 
artillery  was  withdrawn. 

Best  of  all,  however,  was  the  attempt  made  to  reform 
the  unfortunate  slave  of  drink  by  Beeping  him  awake 
nights  killing  bedbugs.  It  was  anticipated  by  his  land 
lord  that  he  would  earn  his  rent;  but  the  influence  of 
the  conflict  upon  his  habits  was  known  only  by  trial. 
The  neighbors,  at  any  time  of  night,  during  certain 
seasons  of  the  year,  would  look  out  to  see  the  extermi 
nator  of  vermin  going  about  his  house  with  a  candle, 
passing  one  window  after  another  in  search  for  the 
enemies  of  the  peace  of  his  family.  As  a  devoted  hus 
band  and  affectionate  father,  in  his  sober  moments,  he 
wished  to  preserve  some  fragments  of  his  loved  ones 
from  being  devoured  by  the  innumerable  hosts,  which 
had  occupied  that  house  since  1690.  These  old  pen 
sioners  which  had  come  down  to  him  from  a  former 
generation  were  therefore  ruthlessly  destroyed;  and 
this  work  kept  the  man  sober  during  no  small  fraction 
of  the  year.  What  temperance  societies  had  attempted 
in  vain,  seemed  now  about  to  be  accomplished  by 
these  ante-revolutionary  reformers.  But  the  witty  fel 
low  learned  their  habits,  and  between  their  semi-annual 
seasons  of  activity,  he  would  have  his  drinking  frolics. 
And  so,  at  last,  he  had  to  move  out.  On  the  very 
morning  I  passed  that  way,  I  saw  the  tenant  disputing 
with  his  landlord,  and  offsetting  the  rent  bill  of  six  dol 
lars  with  a  bill  of  twenty  dollars  for  vinegar  used  up  in 
pickling  the  foes  of  his  family. 

As  I  stood  by  watching  the  lively  timbers,  expecting 


THE  FISHING    VILLAGE.  107 

to  see  them  dragged  off  bodily  by  their  inhabitants,  one 
of  the  principal  citizens  of  the  town  seeing  that  I  was  a 
stranger  took  me  in,  so  far  as  his  confidence  was  con 
cerned;  and  I  was.  shown  some  of  the  lions  and  lions' 
dens  of  the  town. 

We  went  to  the  court  house,  where  Captain  Colby 
administered  justice.  The  Esquire  was  fond  of  legal 
phrases ;  but  when  a  sharp  lawyer,  in  a  case  of  assault 
and  battery,  insisted  upon  a  definition  of  the  term 
prima  fade  evidence,  the  court  declared  that  —  "  Prima 
fade  evidence  means  hitting  him  right  in  the  head." 

Close  by  the  court  house  stood  the  antique  school 
building;  where  the  master,  in  former  years,  used  to 
punish  the  boys  by  shaking  them  out  of  the  second- 
story  window.  My  guide  had  a  vivid  memory  of  the 
day,  when  he  was  thus  held  by  two  strong  hands  with 
his  face  downward,  and  snapped  till  he  thought  the 
homespun  woftld  give  way  and  let  him  out. 

Next  to  this  seminary  of  learning  lived  Captain  Bill 
Tucker,  the  truthful  skipper,  who  once  lost  his  watch 
overboard  as  he  sailed  into  the  mouth  of  a  distant 
port ;  by  notching  the  ship's  rail  where  it  went  down,  he 
found  it  when  he  next  sailed  that  way,  and  took  it  up 
with  his  long  tongs.  "  And  the  most  remarkable  thing 
about  it,"  added  Captain  Bill,  "  was  that  it  was  still 
running."  He  could  not  account  for  it,  unless  it  was 
the  daily  running  in  and  out  of  the  tide  that  kept  it 
wound  up. 

I  went  round  to  one  of  the  houses  I  had  passed  with 
Cephas,  upon  that  drizzly  day  of  our  mournful  walk 


Io8  THE  FISHING   VILLAGE. 

when  the  Phantom  House  was  always  in  sight.  Here 
dwelt  Pulsifer,  an  itinerant  portrait  painter,  who  scaled 
his  fish  in  the  sand.  He  trundled  a  wheelbarrow  in 
his  travels,  so  as  to  have  a  seat  handy  whenever  he 
wanted  to  rest.  Picked  up  dead  drunk  one  day,  his 
obituary  was  printed ;  and  it  so  angered  him  that  he 
threatened  the  editor  with  fearful  punishment  if  his 
death  should  ever  be  put  in  the  paper  again,  unless  he 
should  give  personal  authority  for  it. 

The  aged  fisherman,  in  the  next  house,  had  a  little 
notoriety  among  the  boys  for  his  fairness  to  fish ; 
always  tenderly  taking  off  the  hook  and  putting  back 
into  the  water  any  that  were  unfortunately  drawn  up  by 
accidentally  catching  on  the  sharp  point  in  his  pulling 
it  up,  when  they  were  not  biting. 

Hanging  around  the  loafing  places  of  this  village,  I 
found  men,  who  fell  further  in  Adam  than  any  other  lot 
I  ever  came  across  in  so  small  a  community:  beetles  of 
the  dunghill  type,  loafers  too  foul  to  live;  long  and 
lank  and  also  pot-bellied  rumsellers,  cursing  their 
neighbors'  children ;  poor  fellows  oscillating  with  fear 
ful  regularity  between  their  own  tumble-down  homes 
and  well-to-do  grog-shops ;  lazy  bones  wearing  out  their 
clothes  in  sitting  on  dry-goods  boxes  while  their  aged 
mothers  had  to  cut  their  own  firewood. 

Again,  there  were  men,  following  what  Captain  John 
Smith  off  Tragabigzanda  called  "this  contemptible 
trade  in  fish,"  who  would  have  been  a  credit  to  the 
company  of  the  apostles.  When  an  old  gambler 
thought  it  the  respectable  thing  to  join  the  church,  he 


THE  FISHING   VILLAGE.  109 

was  told  to  make  application  to  him  who  was  called 
"the  Apostolic  Fisherman."  Edward  Lee  answered 
that  he  would  let  him  know  "if  there  was  any  va 
cancy."  This  fisherman  had  more  skill  than  most  pas 
tors  in  leading  men  out  of  darkness  into  light. 

It  was  the  apostolic  man,  Edward  Lee,  who  was  to 
Cephas  more  than  all  books  of  comfort  save  one.  He 
had  buried  his  own  wife  years  before,  and  his  sons 
were  on  distant  voyages.  In  the  first  place,  he  had  the 
good  sense  to  let  his  pastor  alone.  Not  so,  Simeon 
Thorn,  the  fish  merchant,  who  met  Cephas  within  a 
week  of  Helen's  death,  and  said, — 

"  Sair  loss,  sir.  But  you'll  soon  git  over  it ;  and 
marry,  maybe,  a  woman  'ill  suit  you  better." 

Did  not  Edward  Lee  leave  his  pastor  to  his  own 
sorrow?  To  be  sure  he  saw  him  on  the  day  of  the 
funeral,  and  he  took  hold  of  his  hand;  and  his  own 
hard  hand  was  soft  with  sympathy ;  and  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  weather-beaten  cheeks :  but  he  did  not  say  a 
word,  not  he.  And  when  the  sad  procession  started 
for  the  crag,  Lee  saw  the  pastor  walking  alone,  and 
without  saying  —  by  your  leave, —  he  walked  beside 
him. 

"  At  first/'  said  Cephas,  "  I  was  shocked,  but  when  I 
saw  his  face  wet  as  if  a  northeaster  had  blown  the 
brine  into  it,  I  took  his  arm :  but  he  did  not  speak  to 
me." 

.  Lee  went  to  the  parson's  house  next  day  to  see  if  he 
would  try  a  line  for  cod.  And  they  sailed  many  miles 
over  the  blue  waves  amid  white  caps :  a  miserable  day 


I  io  THE  FISHING   VILLAGE. 

for  fishing  as  none  knew  better  than  the  skipper ;  but  a 
good  day  for  sailing  amid  the  crested  billows. 

"  For  the  hour,"  said  Cephas,  "  I  forgot  my  sorrow  \ 
but  Lee  did  not  speak  of  Helen.  Just  as  we  touched 
the  wharf,  however,  he  told  me  about  a  young  man 
who  was  very  thoughtful  about  spiritual  interests,  and 
asked  me  to  go  and  see  him.  And,  in  seeing  him,  my 
mind  wandered  for  the  moment  from  the  great  grief." 

Lee  was  the  main  stay  in  the  great  religious  reforma 
tion  that  followed. 

When  the  mackerel  season  came  round,  as  they  were 
following  the  schools,  the  rough  man  tenderly  told 
Cephas  the  story  of  his  own  dead  wife.  "  He  made  no 
logical  'therefore'  and  'application,'"  said  the  pastor, 
"  but  I  could  see  that  he  understood  my  case." 

This  same  wise  man,  not  long  before  my  second  visit 
to  the  Island  Home  had  exchanged  his  fare  of  fish  for 
a  half  barrel  of  old  books  in  the  metropolis;  and  as 
he  trundled  the  little  library  to  his  pastor's  door,  he 
said, — 

"  I  must  be  plain  with  you,  minister.  You  need  to 
rise  up  from  your  mourning  like  a  man,  and  go  to 
work.  You  don't  care  for  cod  and  mackerel  catching : 
an'  I  have  brought  you  other  fish  to  make." 

It  was  this  scaly  library  that  had  given  Cephas  the 
impetus  he  needed  to  go  into  the  Phantom  House  to 
reopen  his  Red  Trunk. 


THE   OLD  RED    TRUNK.  Ill 


VIII. 
THE  OLD  RED  TRUNK. 

SUMMER  after  our  camp  in  the  mountains, 
I  found  Cephas  in  a  new  parish  in  another  part 
of  Nuntundale ;  on  the  mainland,  but  still  by  the 
sea  shore.     It  was  one  of  those  towns  whose  chief  char 
acteristics  are  pine  woods,  sandy  roads  and  red  farm 
houses.     Entering  my  friend's  study  with  feet  of  wool, 
I  found  him  bending  over  his  Old  Red  Trunk.     It  was 
full  of  envelopes  and  paper-bags,  stuffed  and  labelled. 

"What  have  you  here?"  I  asked,  in  a  gruff  voice, 
close  behind  his  shoulder,  "  Garden  Seeds  ? " 

"Yea,"  he  replied,  "seeds  for  the  garden  of  the 
Lord.  Won't  you  have  some  ? " 

And  he  held  up  a  two  quart  bag,  filled  with  little 
scraps  of  paper  scrabbled  all  over  in  lead  pencil. 
These  were  "ideas,"  I  was  informed.  The  trunk 
would  hold  about  a  bushel  and  a  half  I  should  think. 

Turning  to  the  study  table,  I  found  a  hammer-head 
lying  on  it  for  a  paper  weight.  It  had  been  made  by  a 
man,  who  began  life  an  obscure  blacksmith  and  rose  to 
fame  among  all  carpenters,  by  making  the  best  ham 
mers  in  America.  His  motto  was  "  not  to  undersell  but 


112  THE   OLD  RED    TRUNK. 

to  excel," — to  make  the  very  best  work  and  charge 
price  enough  to  pay  for  it.  He  had  often  stood  at  his 
forge  fifteen  hours  a  day. 

Looking  upon  the  wall  over  Cephas'  study  table,  I 
saw  the  words, —  "Good  work  wanted  here." 

That  evening,  strolling  on  the  beach,  we  had  a  long 
talk  about  this  trunk  business.  Heavy  and  substantial 
as  it  appeared,  it  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  one  of 
my  friend's  phantoms.  At  least  so-  I  thought  then. 
He  was  aiming  to  learn  to  write,  as  well  as  he  could, 
furnishing  himself  with  the  best  raw  material,  trusting 
to  years  of  discipline  to  teach  him  the  art  of  putting 
things.  This  simple  purpose,  which  he  had  early 
formed,  was  now  bearing  hard  upon  him  with  all  the 
weight  of  iron  necessity.  The  Old  Red  Trunk,  which 
was  his  storehouse  of  writing  stuff,  had  controlling 
sway  over  his  soul;  all  things  bending  to  this. 

I  had  seen  the  face  of  this  phantom  before.  It  was 
one  of  the  things  Cephas  talked  about  with  me  in  the 
woods,  when  we  were  boys  together.  So  great  was  his 
diligence  in  his  school  days,  that  he  was  very  foolish 
and  very  wise  in  the  same  act.  He  neglected  to  go  to 
a  neighboring  city  to  hear  an  eminent  orator,  saying 
that  no  one  would  ever  stir  out  of  his  tracks  to  hear 
Cephas,  if  he  did  not  stick  to  his  study  and  learn  how 
to  use  the  English  language  to  some  purpose.  Wisely 
minding  his  business,  he  knew  not  that  he  would  be 
helped  by  listening  to  one  of  unsurpassed  skill  in 
speech.  He  was  intent  on  one  thing ;  he  was  mad  to 
learn  how  to  write.  I  have  known  him,  more  than 


THE   OLD   RED    TRUNK.  1 13 

once,  to  spend  a  whole  half  day  walking  in  mud  and 
rain,  manufacturing  a  sentence,  which  supplied  only 
four  or  six  words  to  his  sermon. 

"Great  fool  is  he,"  said  an  old  man,  who  sawed  half 
a  cord  of  wood  in  my  shed  while  Cephas  put  twenty 
words  together. 

I  thought  it  the  height  of  folly  for  Cephas  to  try  to 
gain  skill  in  the  use  of  the  English  language ;  but  I  had 
great  hopes  of  myself,  for  I  could  compose  two  pages  to 
his  one.  He  was  always  seeking  an  ideal  too  high  for 
me  to  think  about.  When  he  first  began  to  read  the 
Greek  authors  he  was  often  at  me  with  questioning, — 
What  are  the  elements  of  enduring  power  as  an 
author?  Is  it  possible  to  do  good  work  which  shall 
stand  age  after  age  ?  Once,  when  we  were  talking  all 
one  winter  night,  Cephas  suddenly  roused  up  towards 
morning  in  a  great  state  of  excitement  about  the  pyra 
mids.  The  hills,  he  said,  were  leveled  to  make  stand 
ing  places  for  these  granite  piles.  A  hundred  thousand 
men  then  worked  ten  years  in  preparing  a  causeway 
by  which  to  carry  stones,  before  they  were  ready  to 
build. 

"And,"  said  he,  sitting  up  in  bed,  "it  is  by  some 
such  laborious  preparation  that  we  ought  to  make 
ready  for  doing  solid  work  that  will  stand  through  the 
centuries.  We  must  labor  patiently  through  manifold 
years;  planning  far  ahead,  not  being  afraid  to  take  a 
score  of  years  for  getting  ready  to  do  the  work  of  the 
next  score.  I  expect  to  live  till  I  am  sixty,  and  I  mean 
to  calculate  accordingly.  If  I  don't  know  enough  to 

>>   0*  TffK        ^^ 


"4  THE   OLD  RED    TRUNK. 

make  a  consistent  plan  for  forty  odd  years  of  hard 
work,  you  may  write  me  down  a  fool." 

The  only  reply  I  ventured  on,  was  to  tell  him  that  he 
would  die  before  seven,  if  he  did  not  go  to  sleep  before 
six. 

Now,  twelve  years  later,  I  saw  the  same  wild  notions 
possessing  him.  Here  was  his  Old  Red  Trunk,  which 
had  been  carted  and  sledded  and  shipped  many  thou 
sands  of  miles  since  his  father  bought  it  when  he 
started  for  the  academy:  here  was  the  original  school 
boy's  treasure  house,  which  had  held  walnuts,  dough 
nuts,  apples,  apple-dumpling,  stockings  out  at  the  heel, 
rent  trowsers,  lexicons,  pocket  libraries,  fish-lines, 
knives,  a  short  rifle,  foul  linen,  white  vests,  old  shoes, 
boot  blacking,  and  at  least  once  a  lot  of  perfumed  love 
letters  tied  up  in  white  ribbon:  here  was  this  old  red 
haired  stager  now  turned  into  a  receptacle  of  "ideas," 
good,  bad,  indifferent, —  facts  that  were  not  facts,  bad 
logic,  mixed  metaphors,  similes  in  shocking  taste,  a 
peck  of  quotations  from  Thomas'  Almanac  and  Tom 
Hood  and  Tom  Jones  and  various  poets  and  professors 
and  philosophers,  with  pen  sketches  of  savages  and 
hints  of  adventures  and  authentic  stories  of  ghosts  and 
nightmare;  —  all  this  was  the  beginning  of  his  stock  in 
trade  toward  some  kind  of  authorship,  be  it  sermons  or 
what  not:  this  was  the  Old  Red  Trunk;  and  he  was 
likely,  I  thought,  to  go  mad  over  it. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Edward,"  said  Cephas,  as  we 
were  stretched  upon  the  sand  at  the  verge  of  the  incom 
ing  tide,  "  I  would  not  give  much  for  my  life's  ministry, 


THE   OLD  RED    TRUNK.  115 

if  I  were  not  to  take  the  first  ten  years  of  it  to  prepare 
for  the  rest.  My  school  days  were  cut  short,  and  they 
must  be  lengthened.  If  it  was  wise  for  me  to  go  to  the 
schools  at  all,  instead  of  imposing  myself  on  a  parish  as 
soon  as  I  determined  to  be  a  minister,  I  am  now  right 
in  thinking  these  first  years  of  parochial  care  merely 
preparation  for  the  better  work  I  ought  to  do.  Wisdom 
justifies  me  in  moving  from  one  little  parish  to  another 
to  accommodate  my  studies.  I  have  no  purpose  to  set 
tle  down  and  stay  put,  till  I  get  through  the  course  I 
am  now  engaged  in.  And  I  hope,  before  I  fairly  com 
plete  it,  to  be  out  upon  the  border  where  I  belong." 

It  appeared,  as  we  conversed,  that  some  years  since 
Cephas  had  mapped  out  a  ten  years'  plan  of  reading 
and  investigation  upon  the  topics  taken  up  in  a 
theological  seminary  course ;  and  that  he  had  been 
systematically  studying  biblical  literature,  iheology,  ec 
clesiastical  history  and  homiletics.  Courageously  car 
rying  forward  these  studies  week  in  and  week  out,  he 
had,  meantime,  faithfully  performed  parochial  duties, 
and  preached  as  well  as  he  could  without  interfering 
with  his  regular  work.  Whenever  his  studies  asked 
him  to  move,  he  pulled  up  and  was  off;  and  then  set 
down  his  Old  Red  Trunk  in  a  new  place.  By  occa 
sionally  moving,  he  could  manage  the  pulpit  supply 
more  easily. 

"What  business,"  I  asked,  as  we  drew  back  a  little 
to  keep  out  of  the  rising  water,  "  What  business  have 
you  to  be  reading  so  much  in  church  fathers,  old  histo 
ries,  antiquities,  no  end  of  dry  commentaries,  tough  old 


"6  THE   OLD   RED    TRUNK. 

fashioned  theology,  dead  sermons  of  dead  men,  books 
of  hard  science,  amusing  travel,  entertaining  biography, 
essays  and  poetry,  when  you  ought  to  be  making  new 
sermons  every  week  for  your  people  ? " 

"I  am  not  ready  to  make  sermons,"  he  replied,  "I 
am  not  yet  in  the  ministry.  I  am  only  a  theological 
student ;  my  ordination  ought  not  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  my  usefulness.  I  would  as  soon  think  of  hugging  a 
planet,  as  to  try  to  handle  some  of  the  topics  upon 
which  I  ought  to  make  sermons.  It  is  suitable  for  me 
to  testify  my  love  to  Christ,  and  earnestly  call  all  men 
to  Him,  and  work  hard  to  bring  them,  but  I  am  not 
ready  to  fulfil  my  ministry. 

"  Is  it  not  right  to  devote  a  fair  section  of  life  to  fur 
nishing  my  mind  with  materials  for  better  work  in 
sermon  making?  Do  I  not  need  to  be  informed,  and 
to  gain  discipline  in  the  study  of  the  highest  themes? 
Unless  I  read  most  carefully  and  patiently  some  of 
the  best  books  in  every  department  relating  to  my  pro 
fession,  I  cannot  attain  to  the  highest  usefulness 
possible  to  me.  I  ought  to  attempt  more  than  mere 
extemporizing  on  paper.  Instead,  therefore,  of  begin 
ning  my  ministry  with  spending  four  days  every  week 
in  preparing  one  sermon,  I  set  out  long  ago  to  take 
four  days  every  week  for  study  on  my  carefully  selected 
course  of  the  choicest  books  in  the  four  departments 
of  theological  training:  thinking  as  hard  as  I  can  in 
connection  with  the  reading;  and  writing  down  my 
thoughts  at  the  time,  and  riling  them  away  in  paper 
bags  for  my  Old  Trunk. 


THE   OLD  RED    TRUNK.  117 

"  Some  of  this  stuff  will  be  of  use  to  me,  when,  after  a 
few  years,  I  give  four  days  in  a  week  to  making  ser 
mons.  No  small  part  of  these  paper  scraps  will  be 
burned ;  but  that  will  be  better  than  if  I  had  put  them 
into  shape  and  called  them  sermons  before  burning. 
What  I  chiefly  value  in  this  course  of  study  —  far  above 
these  miserable  notes  —  is  the  mental  discipline  I  gain 
by  it.  More  breadth  of  thinking,  and  depth,  and 
force, — which  I  so  greatly  need, —  should  grow  out 
of  long,  close  and  quickening  contact  with  the  best 
thinkers  of  the  world.  *  Narrow,  shallow,  forceless,' — 
are  the  words  to  write  on  the  outside  of  my  sermons." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  are  right  on  that,"  said  I,  pulling 
off  my  boots.  "But  what  was  that  I  heard  you  say 
years  ago,  about  your  writing  books?  If  you  can't 
make  half  a  barrel  of  sermons  without  studying  twenty 
years  before  you  make  one,  it  will  take  you  at  least  a 
century  and  a  half  to  get  ready  to  write  a  book." 

"Well,  sir,"  he  answered,  taking  off  his  coat,  "I  don't 
propose  to  write  more  than  a  mackerel  kit  of  sermons." 

"That  is  the  right  figger,"  I  exclaimed.  "'Stale, 
flat,  and  unprofitable '  as  salt  mackerel. —  Hamlet." 

"If,"  continued  Cephas,  "besides  all  the  things  I 
make  in  the  name  of  "sermons, —  extemporizing  on 
paper  or  in  the  pulpit  to  keep  the  Sabbath  services 
fresh  and  profitable, —  I  ever  have  two  hundred  care 
fully  prepared  manuscripts,  I  will  re-write  and  condense 
again  and  again,  till  the  result  of  forty  years'  study  is 
packed  into  fifty  compositions.  And  if  all  the  mental 
discipline  and  power  from  on  High  that  I  can  get  in 


"8  THE   OLD  RED    TRUNK. 

forty  years  of  close  work  directed  to  a  single  end,  can 
not  put  together  the  ideas  I  may  acquire  so  that  they 
shall  be  readable,  I  have  no  purpose  to  become  an 
author.  I  propose  for  my  first  and  only  business  to 
make  sermons.  The  current  wants  of  my  people  I  will 
meet  today.  And  if,  thirty  years  hence,  my  life  work 
in  the  study  is  boiled  down" — 

— "Maple  syrup" —  I  sweetly  inserted  — 
— "  Into  half  a  dozen  thin  "— 
— "  Too  thin  "—  said  I  — 

—"Volumes,  I  hope  and  believe  that  they  will  stand 
a  better  chance   to  keep  out  of  the  rag-man's  hands 
than  if  I  were  to  leave  eighteen  hundred  manuscripts." 
— "  Good.     If  you  leave  fifty,  that  will  be  enough." 
After  this  homiletical  discourse,  we  went    in  swim 
ming.     It  was  a  hot  June  night  with  the  wind  off  shore, 
and  uncomfortable   anywhere  beyond   six  feet  of   the 
water  line.     After  paddling  about  awhile  in  the  phos 
phorescent  brine,  we  walked  up  and  down  the  beach, 
still  talking. 

"What  a  revelation  there  would  be,"  said  I,  "if  your 
Red  Trunk  were  opened  to  the  world,  and  published  as 
Mahomet's  scrap-book  was.  For  I  have  read  that  part 
of  the  Koran  was  written  upon  'date  leaves,  and  tab 
lets  of  white  stone,  and  shoulder  bones,  and  bits  of 
parchment,  thrown  promiscuously  into  a  box.'  If  I 
were  you,  I  would  not  run  the  risk  of  having  the  good 
and  the  bad  published  together,  by  some  devoted  friend 
and  follower  such  as  I  am.  You  know  that  I  fully 
expect  to  survive  you.  And  I  shall  have  the  fun  of 


THE   OLD  RED    TRUNK.  1 19 

picking  out  of  this  trunk  white  shoulder-bones,  written 
all  over  with  sentences  'which  the  world  would  not 
willingly  let  die.'  But  I  doubt  not,  there  are  some 
bones  that  ought  to  rot.  I  hope,  therefore,  that  you 
will  not  put  off  book-making  till  you  die,  and  leave  a 
bad  job  on  my  hands." 

"Herschel,"  he  answered,  "had  pluck  enough  to 
spend  eight  years  in  South  Africa,  making  observations 
for  a  map  of  the  stars  of  the  southern  hemisphere ;  and 
then  to  work  for  some  years  at  home  in  completing  it. 
I  should  be  ashamed  to  be  so  short-sighted  and  petty 
in  my  planning  as  to  think  that  I  must  do  and  die  to 
day.  I  will  plan  for  longer  and  larger  work :  and  if 
the  Lord  removes  me  before  the  work  is  done,  that  is 
His  care,  not  mine  ;  and  He  is  the  One  I  work  for. 

"  Long  headed  merchants,  the  solid  men  of  our  great 
cities,  are  what  they  are,  because  they  are  far-sighted 
and  far-reaching.  They  make  plans  which  require 
many  years ;  building  up  new  trade  with  distant  coun 
tries,  and  organizing  works  which  are  the  pride  of  the 
world.  If  they  were  content  with  the  petty  projects  of 
peanut  peddlers,  they  would  be  like  students  who  have 
no  purpose  reaching  beyond  to-day,  who  live  as  it  were 
from  hand  to  mouth.  The  peanut  business  is  not  to  be 
despised :  but  it  is  despicable  if  one  never  aims  for  the 
noblest  things  in  life.  I  do  not  expect  to  make  great 
attainments;  but  my  work  is  so  poor  and  my  mind 
develops  so  slowly,  that  it  is  every  way  better  for  me  to 
take  up  a  considerable  range  of  study  before  calling 
any  writing  completed  even  after  my  sort.  The  books 


120  THE   OLD   RED    TRUNK. 

I  read,  and  the  thoughts  I  have,  will  throw  light  on 
each  other ;  and  my  style  will  get  more  settled  as  the 
years  go  by.  Time  matures  thought.  Experience  in 
life  tends  to  give  good  sense.  The  ideas  which  have 
ripened  during  many  years  will  be  worth  more  than  the 
raw  conceptions  of  early  life. 

"  My  object  is  not  primarily  to  print;  but  to  prepare 
myself  to  make  sermons.  And  if,  after  going  over  cer 
tain  ground  again  and  again,  in  the  reading  and  think 
ing  and  life  experiences  of  forty  years, —  presenting  the 
best  thoughts  of  all  former  years  with  the  additions 
and  subtractions  and  modifications  of  matter  and  style 
suggested  by  mental  growth,  first  in  one  shape  and 
then  in  another,  and  then  again  and  still  again  in  what 
I  suppose  to  be  better  shape  still, —  if,  after  all  this, 
what  remains  in  the  bottom  of  my  Old  Red  Trunk 
is  worth  printing,  I  have  no  objection  to  its  being 
done :  albeit,  somebody  else  will  look  over  proof,  and 
trade  with  publishers ;  when  that  time  comes,  I  hope 
myself  to  be  in  business  more  to  my  mind." 

When,  that  night,  we  kneeled  to  pray  before  sleep 
ing,  it  was  plain  that  Cephas  was  in  some  such  intel 
lectual  and  spiritual  glow  as  characterized  the  pecul 
iarly  exalted  moments  I  had  noticed  in  his  childhood. 


WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT.  121 


IX. 

WHERE   TO   KEEP    IT. 

NEXT  day  we  went  out  at  about  ten  o'clock,  to  sit 
under  the  elms  upon  the  "  village-green. "  This 
plot  of  land  was  green,  but  there  was  no  "vil 
lage" —  save  one  meeting-house  facing  east,  one  store 
fronting  west,  and  one  house  looking  south.  On  the 
south  an  open  plain  extended  half  a  mile  to  the  sea. 
Mr.  Strutt's  mansion  was  large,  square,  white,  with 
ample  yard  and  high  fence ;  a  big  chimney  outside,  and 
huge  fireplaces  with  plenty  of  good  cheer  inside.  Mr. 
Strutt's  store  was  small,  white,  cosy,  and  not  much  dis 
turbed  by  trade.  The  meeting-house  was  one  of  those 
barns  which  the  puritans  built  in  place  of  cathedrals. 
It  was  surmounted  by  a  short  bell  tower  and  a  wooden 
monument  on  top  of  it,  as  if  some  former  minister  had 
been  buried  there. 

Cephas  and  I  had  not  proceeded  far  in  our  talk  on 
the  question, —  Where  to  locate  the  Red  Trunk,  in  a 
big  parish  or  a  little  one, —  when  my  attention  was 
drawn  off  by  seeing  a  short  thick-set  muscular  fellow 
coming  out  of  the  house  on  the  north  of  the  common, 
with  both  arms  raised  above  his  head  holding  a  roll  of 


122  WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT. 

basket  work,  evidently  of  great  weight,  and  somewhat 
larger  than  a  barrel  of  flour.  Almost  immediately  he 
began  turning  somersets, —  throwing  himself  forward 
upon  the  basket-work,  and  turning  himself  hfeels  up 
and  over,  and  landing  upon  his  feet  again, —  coming 
along  the  path  like  a  great  wheel.  I  had  never  seen 
anything  like  this  ;  and  I  was  astonished. 

"That  is  Smith,"  said  Cephas,  "the  Enon  minister, 
taking  his  morning  exercise.  That  hurdle  which  he 
holds  in  his  hands  is  full  of  rice, —  two  hundred  pounds 
of  it.  He  had  it  imported  from  Japan,  expressly  for 
his  use.  He  is,  just  now,  boarding  at  Strutt's.  I  be 
lieve  that  he  is  writing  a  book  or  something  of  that  sort. 
He  writes  awhile,  then  rests  himself  by  coming  out 
here  and  whirling  over  with  his  hurdle  of  rice  a  few 
times  ;  then  goes  back  to  his  work  again.  Let's  speak 
to  him." 

By  this  time  Smith  was  seated  cross-legged  upon  his 
two  hundred  pound  weight,  in  the  center  of  the  little 
park.  As  we  approached,  I  was  much  struck  by  his  ap 
pearance  ;  and  my  first  impressions  were  confirmed  by 
our  subsequent  conversation,  and  by  what  Cephas  after 
wards  told  me  about  him.  He  is  one  of  the  most 
genial  of  men  with  life  like  a  sunbeam ;  of  fine  tastes, 
a  literary  judgment  excelled  by  few,  a  keen  wit,  ready 
sympathies,  with  a  warm  hand,  unselfish  as  if  living 
wholly  for  others.  This  obscure  man,  Smith  of  Enon, 
was,  at  that  time,  a  thorough  and  painstaking  student,  of 
considerable  solid  learning,  with  an  indomitable  spirit 
of  application, —  a  man  who  would  some  day  make  his 


WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT.   .  123 

mark  in  the  world.  This  man  had  buried  himself  —  as 
I  should  have  expressed  it  —  for  years,  in  a  town  with 
out  fame ;  preaching  to  a  handful  of  people,  doing  the 
pastoral  work,  and  studying  six  or  eight  hours  a  day. 
The  wide  and  varied  culture,  and  wholesome  habits, 
gained  in  that  pastorate,  are  bearing  good  fruit  to-day. 
Those  who  now  honor  him,  little  know  of  his  hard  toil 
in  those  early  years  of  obscurity. 

It  was  this  man,  who  was  ready  to  take  up  the  battle 
axe  upon  Cephas'  side,  in  our  discussion  that  morning. 
Cephas  had  argued  that  it  was  best  to  keep  the  Old 
Red  Trunk  for  some  years  upon  a  wheelbarrow,  so  that 
it  could  be  easily  trundled  from  one  town  to  another ; 
but  I  suggested  some  important  parish,  and  a  fixed 
position. 

"Some  of  your  sermons,"  I  had  said,  "are  as  good 
as  anybody's ;  and  you  ought  to  have  a  big  parish  and 
big  pay." 

But  he  declared  that  small  obscure  parishes  are  the 
good  places,  since  they  are  so  peculiarly  favorable  for 
study. 

I  had  asserted  that  a  man  would  run  down,  if  he 
were  not  drawn  upon  by  the  demands  of  position:  — 

"Young  men  at  school  in  a  class  stimulate  each 
other.  But  when  as  pastors  they  enter  rural  parishes, 
and  find  that  they  have  more  culture  and  power  than 
the  men  they  daily  meet,  they  are  apt  to  grow  slack 
and  conform  to  the  town  standard,  and  do  not  try  hard 
to  rise  far  above  it  day  by  day." 

"If  I  would,"  answered  Cephas,  "I  could  tell  you 


124  WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT. 

just  how  to  hinder  it.  I  suppose  the  company  of  God 
ought  to  be  sufficient  stimulus." 

"  Life  is  nothing,"  I  said,  little  heeding  his  last  re 
mark,  "unless  one  is  always  ascending.  I  cannot  be 
content  without  what  one  has  called, —  'an  extraordinary 
lifting  of  the  feet  in  the  rough  ways  of  honor  over  the 
impediments  of  fortune.'  Is  it  not  honorable  to  desire 
preferment  in  one's  work  ?  My  ambition,  which  seems 
to  me  proper  and  praiseworthy,  will  never  let  me  be 
quiet.  The  trophies  of  Miltiades  will  not  allow  me  to 
slumber.  I  must  push  on  through  all  obstacles." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Cephas, — "to  speak  frankly, — if  you 
want  to  make  the  most  of  yourself,  I  advise  you  to  quit 
buttonholing  all  your  friends  to  get  them  to  introduce 
you  to  some  'larger  sphere;'  and  go  to  work  hard  just 
where  you  are,  to  enlarge  the  sphere  you  are  in:  by 
pushing  round  some,  you  can  do  it.  Just  spend  half 
the  zeal  you  give  to  getting  out  of  your  parish  into  a 
bigger  one,  in  widening  and  deepening  your  parochial 
work,  and  enlarging  your  mind,  and  doing  a  bigger 
business  in  your  study,  and  you  will  rise  fast  enough  in 
real  power.  What  we  want  is  not  position,  but  power." 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  discussion,  that, —  as  I 
have  related, —  we  were  interrupted  by  the  incoming  of 
the  athletic  Smith.  When  we  had  passed  the  civilities 
of  the  morning  with  this  pastor  from  Enon,  and  had 
made  him  acquainted  with  the  debate  between  us,  he 
rose  to  his  feet,  and, —  first  raising  his  hurdle  of  rice 
over  his  head,  and  upholding  it  by  his  strong  arms, — 
said :  — 


WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT.  125 

"There  is  nothing  to  hinder  setting  up  one  of  the 
greatest  factories  in  the  world  in  any  bushy  and 
brambly  town,  if  there  is  only  capital  enough  to  build  it, 
and  power  enough  to  run  it;  so,  one  of  the  greatest 
thinking  mills  on  the  globe  can  be  set  up  almost  any 
where, —  bringing  an  unheard  of  village  into  the  very 
forefront  of  the  intellectual  forces  of  this  planet, —  if 
the  capital  and  the  power  are  equal  to  it." 

"It  is  not  impossible,"  he  added, —  placing  his  rice 
on  the  ground  and  standing  upon  it, —  "  for  some  very 
humble  man,  in  an  out  of  the  way  town,  to  rise  up  and 
become  the  first  of  a  line  of  kings;  founding  a  new 
empire  in  the  literary  and  religious  world.  An  active 
thinker  may  study  for  the  world,  as  well  as  for  his 
parish.  There  are  men  who  have  brought  to  the  race 
blessings  new,  fresh  from  heaven.  Of  one  you  can  say 
that  he  brought  into  the  world  a  new  element  of  civili 
zation,  or  unfolded  for  the  first  time  some  important 
truth.  It  is  possible  to  do  this  kind  of  business  in  a 
very  small  town,  and  make  memorable  a  community 
that  has  been  without  note. 

"  I  once  saw  a  white  headed  eagle  rise  from  a  dead 
tree  in  a  most  desolate  country,  and  ascend  out  of  sight 
by  circular  sweeps  without  apparently  moving  wing  or 
tail.  So  we  may  go  into  the  wildest  and  roughest  of 
our  New  England  towns,  and  there  lead  lives  that  shall 
be  always  ascending ;  and  we  may  do  it  with  no  undig 
nified  fluttering  or  passionate  fanning  of  the  air,  but 
with  calmness  and  dignity  and  such  ease  that  it  shall 
seem  to  be  our  natural  motion. 


126  WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT. 

"Said  that  noble  woman  Fidelia  Fiske, — 'It  is  how 
we  live  more  than  where  we  live.'  'How  can  a 
man  be  concealed?  How  can  a  man  be  concealed?' 
cried  Confucius.  A  small  parish  cannot  hide  a  man. 
'Wherever  ships  sail  or  chariots  run;  wherever  the 
heavens  overshadow  and  the  earth  sustains;  wherever 
the  sun  and  moon  shine,  or  frosts  and  dews  fall,  among 
all  who  have  blood  and  breath,  there  is  not  one  who 
does  not  honor  and  love  him:'  so  says  the  Chinese 
classic  on  the  honor  of  the  true  sage." 

At  this  point  our  eccentric  friend  turned  to  Cephas, 
and  asked  him  to  bring  the  rice  over  to  his  boarding 
house.  And  then  he  threw  himself  down  upon  his 
right  hand  and  over  upon  his  left,  and  then  upon  his 
left  foot  and  then  upon  his  right,  turning  over  and  over, 
wheeling  himself  in  this  manner  out  of  the  park.  We 
tried  to  move  the  rice  but  soon  found  it  too  much 
work. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  about  Smith  that  I  don't 
like,"  said  Cephas.  "He  was  something  of  a  traveler 
in  his  boyhood ;  and  when  he  gets  upon  his  adventures 
in  foreign  parts,  you  can't  always  tell  what  to  believe. 
When  he  first  told  me  about  the  Japanese  athletes  turn 
ing  somersets  holding  in  their  hands  hurdles  of  rice 
weighing  two  hundred  pounds,  I  doubted  it:  and  he 
sent  to  Japan  for  this  specimen,  on  purpose  to  show  me 
that  it  can  be  done.  Aside  from  this,  I  have  no  objec 
tions  to  Smith." 

As  we  turned  homeward,  Cephas  told  me  about  the 
hard  studying  the  Enon  parsonage  had  witnessed. 


WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT.  127 

And  he  did  not  fail  to  make  a  personal  application  of 
the  morning's  talk  to  me. — 

"Your  success,  Edward,  is  in  your  own  hand,  in  your 
own  study.  It  avails  not  for  you  to  seek  this  and  that 
high  place.  Some  one  may  object  to  your  removal  to 
this  or  that  station;  but  no  one  can  object  to  your 
being  a  man  where  you  are.  There  is  no  objection  to 
your  being  a  man." 

So  he  spoke  to  me  like  my  own  better  nature,  and 
tried  to  awaken  in  me  the  purpose  to  rise  above  myself : 
for  —  to  speak  frankly — I  had  been  a  seeker  for  some 
" better  place"  ever  since  I  had  been  in  the  ministry. 

"  I  have  been  aching,  for  months,  to  have  a  talk  with 
you,"  added  my  mentor, —  and  I  may  as  well  report  his 
words  faithfully.  "You  have,  many  times,  complained 
to  me  that  your's  was  only  a  common  career.  Now 
what  you  want  is  to  turn  to,  and  make  that  common 
career  illustrious.  By  an  uncommon  spirit  it  can  be 
done.  When  Jonathan  Edwards  was  turned  out  of 
Northampton,  he  went  on  a  mission  to  Stockbridge. 
And  he  is  remembered  by  the  work  he  did  in  that  little 
arched  alcove  between  the  chimney  and  the  corner, 
with  Indian  children  about  his  door;  and  not  because 
he  was  afterwards  president  of  a  college.  Dr.  Em- 
mons,  poor  and  in  debt,  did  not  hook  himself  to  his 
influential  friends,  or  go  about  candidating ;  but  he  put 
a  hook  on  his  study  door,  and  did  not  let  anybody 
disturb  him,  till  he  became  a  theological  seminary,  and 
had  to  let  in  students. 

"  If  you  want  to  rise  in  the  world,  rise  in  your  parish. 


128  WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT. 

Rise  above  yourself  daily.  Forget  the  things  that  are 
behind ;  and  every  morning  awaken  within  a  new  man 
far  nobler  than  he  who  lay  down  last  night.  You  are 
to  be  a  man  in  obscurity,  or  you  will  never  be  a  man  in 
the  light.  Can  you  easily  hide  the  sun?  Do  not  try  to 
climb  the  heavens,  and  occupy  a  prominent  place ;  but 
first  of  all  make  your  soul  luminous,  and  then  the 
planets  will  circle  around  you.  Brougham  was  a  law 
yer  without  name  one  day;  the  next  day,  by  the 
decision  of  a  legal  point  in  his  favor,  he  was  the  great 
advocate,  and  one  of  the  foremost  men  in  England; 
but  he  was  as  much  of  a  man  before  that  bright  day  as 
after,  only  the  world  did  not  know  it." — 

— We  were  just  entering  his  study  door,  when  Ce 
phas  said, —  "These  walls  are  my  witness,  that,  whether 
or  not  I  ever  found  a  college,  I  am  bound,  at  the  least, 
to  educate  myself.  And  I  am  not  without  hope  that 
as  the  days  go  by,  I  may  become  a  worthy  Professor  of 
Religion  in  my  parish." 

It  will  be  suitable  to  add,  for  the  benefit  of  any 
reader  who  is  disposed  to  be.  critical,  that  after  we  were 
fairly  seated  in  Cephas'  study,  my  companion  gave  me 
Dante  to  read,  and  that  I  opened  to  the  account  the 
poet  gives  of  the  man  whom  he  met  carrying  his  head 
in  his  hand,  holding  it  by  the  hair  as  one  would  a 
lantern. 

"  But  I  remained  to  look  upon  the  crowd  ; 
And  saw  a  thing  which  I  should  be  afraid, 
Without  some  further  proof,  even  to  recount, 


WHERE    TO  KEEP  IT.  129 

If  it  were  not  that  conscience  re-assures  me. 

****** 

I  truly  saw,  and  still  I  seem  to  see  it, 
A  trunk  without  a  head  walk  in  like  manner 
As  walked  the  others  of  the  mournful  herd. 
And  by  the  hair  it  held  the  head  dissevered, 
Hung  from  the  hand  in  fashion  of  a  lantern, 
And  that  upon  us  gazed  and  said  :  '  O  me  ! ' " 

"<O  me!'"  said  I,  closing  the  book,  "this  story 
appears  to  me  somewhat  improbable.  It  is  very  much 
easier  to  believe  what  my  own  eyes  have  seen  to-day 
than  to  vouch  for  the  veracity  of  this  Italian  wanderer 
in  Malebolge." 

And  I  assure  the  reader  that  I  should  not  have  men 
tioned  this  account  of  the  athletic  feats  of  Smith  had 
not  my  conscience  commanded  me  to  do  it. 


STONE   COVE. 


X. 

STONE   COVE. 


next  settlement  into  which  Cephas  trundled 
his  Red  Trunk  was  Stone  Cove,  near  my  own 
home.     I  give  below  his  own  account  of  his  ex 
periences  there  upon  the  first  morning  after  his  arrival. 
"  On  waking  at  five  o'clock,  I  heard  what  I  supposed 
was  the  welcome  sound  of  my  landlady's  coffee-mill  ; 
but  it  run  on  so  long  that  I  thought  she  must  have  an 
unusually  big  grist  of  coffee.     I  discovered,  at  last,  that 
the  noise  I  heard  was  only  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  across 
the  street  ten  rods  off,  carrying  coffee  somewhere  on  its 
wide  waves,   and  gently  growling  about  it.     The  sea 
sounds  like  a  wild  wind  in  the  forests,  or  like  a  tornado 
harping   over   granite   ridges  ;    but  very  frequently   it 
tones   down    into   the    coffee-mill    tone.     Being   fairly 
waked   up   by   the    running   of  (Cape)  Anne's  *  coffee- 

*  Prince  Charles,  son  of  Anne  of  Denmark,  knew  how  to  spell 
his  mother's  name  ;  and  when  he  gave  her  name  to  the  Cape,  the 
fishermen  ought  to  have  learned  to  spell  ;  but  they  did  not,  and 
most  of  them  left  off  the  e.  It  should  be  written  as  the  Queen 
wrote  it,  and  as  it  appears  in  Smith's  Narrative,  "which  is  the  first 
document  naming  it.  It  is  well  known  by  those  familiar  with  our 


STONE    COVE.  131 

mill,  I  set  out  for  Dove  Hill  before  breakfast.  The 
name  and  tradition  of  this  land  bird  is  still  kept  up  on 
the  Cape,  in  spite  of  the  noisy  protests  of  the  sea  fowl 
always  sailing  over  it.  High  up  the  slope,  I  came 
suddenly  upon  half  an  acre  of  fish  heads  —  cod-fish 
heads  just  above  ground.  Green  as  I  was  about  this 
staple  commodity,  I  made  no  doubt  the  hill  was  full,  a 
living  fountain  of  fresh  fish  ready  to  leap  out  on 
the  green  sward,  to  be  salted  and  dried  for  the  Western 
market.  The  view  inland  from  this  hill-top  extends  six 
miles  or  more  over  rough  rocks  and  wild  woodland  to 
Mount  Anne. 

Three  sides  of  the  horizon  show  the  sea.  On  the 
southeast  is  a  port  with  vast  stone  breakwaters;  and 
rising  at  the  tip  of  the  Cape  two  tall  light-houses, 
standing  alone  on  a  long  island.  These  are  Queen 
Anne's  Needles.  South,  across  the  roughest  pastures 
and  stone  quarries,  appears  Massachusetts  Bay.  On 
the  north,  Ipswich  Bay  and  twenty  miles  or  more  of 

old  records  that  it  was  a  mere  matter  of  luck  as  to  spelling. 
Cape  Codd  appears  upon  a  map  of  1634,  as  reproduced  in  Palfrey's 
History  of  New  England.  Cape  Codd  and  Cape  Ann  match. 
The  sentence  in  which  Cape  "Ann"  is  first  mentioned  in  the 
Mass.  Bay  Records,  contains  five  mistakes  in  spelling.  Vide  vol.  I 
p  253.  Page  256  gives  Anne.  The  prevailing  mode  dropped  the 
e.  Cape  Ann  is  named  for  some  unknown  Betsey  Ann  or  Sally 
Ann ;  but  Cape  Anne  bears  the  name  of  an  English  Queen. 
There  was  no  royal  woman  who  wrote  her  name  —  Ann.  Ann 
Hutchinson  dropped  the  e,  and  the  colony  dropped  her.  I  shall 
persist  in  adding  the  e  to  our  Cape,  in  accordance  with  its  first 
naming.  There  is  a  decided  smell  of  fish  about  Cape  Ann. 


I32  STONE   COVE. 

glistening  sand, —  dreary  beaches  short  and  long,  and 
the  white  line  of  Plum  Island  and  Salisbury.  Sixty 
miles  to  the  north  rises  blue  Agamenticus  in  old  York. 
All  along  this  northern  coast,  the  highlands  back  are 
crowned  with  villages  and  church  spires.  And  on  this 
side  Ipswich  Bay,  I  see  the  spire  of  a  church,  seem 
ingly  floating  at  sea,  the  hull  being  hidden  by  the  inter 
vening  forest.  Seaward  are  ships,  some  sailing  towards 
the  Dipper.  All  the  water  this  morning  is  covered 
with  white  caps,  Queen  Anne's  sheep  roaming  over  the 
salt  pastures. 

"  Here  is  this  big,  round  hill,  with  green  fields,  yel 
low  corn,  blushing  fruit,  lowing  cattle,  and  a  wide 
outlook ;  a  fine  upland  farm,  a  richly  cultivated  country, 
thrust  up  into  the  air,  like  one  of  the  broad-backed 
hills  of  Vermont,  jutting  far  out  into  the  sea, —  a  hill 
fit  for  the  plow,  amid  the  desolation  of  Cape  Anne, 
where 

All  is  rock  at  random  thrown, 

Black  rock,  bare  crags,  and  banks  of  stone. 

"One  of  the  most  noticeable  features  of  this  hill  is 
the  forest  of  derricks,  which  in  one  quarter  rises  in 
place  of  the  forest  primeval.  Half  a  mile  square  of 
granite  ledge  has  been  honey-combed  by  the  quarry 
men.  Having  descended  the  hill,  we  pass  stout  little 
stone  wagons  with  heavy  loads,  slowly  moving  from  the 
ledges  towards  immense  piles  of  stone,  which  are 
pushed  out  into  the  sea  to  shelter  the  stone  schooners. 
Here  are  three  heavy  laden  vessels  walLd  in  close  to 


STONE   COVE.  T33 

the  post  office ;  and  their  decks  of  stone  look  little 
likely  to  float  at  sea.  Not  far  away  is  a  stone  house, 
strong  and  secure  as  a  jail.  And  here  are  the  barns 
where  the  stone  cattle  are  kept.  These  cattle  that 
work  on  the  ledges  are  really  of  stone,  making  beef 
with  granite  gristle  —  suited  to  these  men  of  iron 
jaw.  The  barns  have  to  be  made,  as  I  suppose,  unusu 
ally  strong  for  these  muscular  beasts.  The  underpin 
ning  is  often  run  half  way  to  the  eaves,  or  again  to  the 
ridge  pole.  The  stable  windows  reveal  thick  stone 
walls,  as  if  they  were  the  port-holes  of  fortresses. 
There  are,  reaching  half  across  the  doors  outside,  iron 
hinges,  twisted  like  snakes  among  rocks.  The  date  of 
the  raising  of  the  barn  is  sometimes  deeply  cut  over 
the  front  door.  Probably  these  buildings  will  stand  as 
long  as  the  Egyptian  temples ;  and  in  these  Cape  Anne 
temples  reside  the  oxen,  venerable  and  tough  as  Apis. 
Enormous  eggs  of  the  sea  serpent,  taken  from  some 
"cobble-stone  beach,"  have  been  thrown  into  the  sides 
of  one  of  these  barns,  as  the  British  threw  a  cannon 
ball  into  the  walls  of  old  Brattle  Street  Church,  and  left 
it  sticking  half  way  out.  This  man,  whose  boys  toss 
about  these  little  granite  balls  like  pebbles,  has  a  flat 
stone  six  feet  square  projecting  over  one  corner  of  his 
pig  pen  for  the  fragment  of  a  roof.  I  saw  pig  pens, 
and  little  gardens  two  rods  square,  so  heavily  walled 
with  stone  that  they  seemed  like  parts  of  fortifications. 
One  stone  house  has  a  garden  wall  of  quarried  stone 
ten  feet  high  and  forty  feet  long.  The  apple-trees  in 
some  of  these  gardens  are  anchored  to  keep  them  from 


134  STONE   COVE. 

blowing  off,  roots  and  all,  in  a  storm.  I  saw  one  tree 
with  nine  anchors  in  her,  eighteen-inch  fluke.  Over 
one  garden  gate  rose  the  jaw-bone  of  a  whale,  standing 
like  a  harrow  to  arch  the  path;  and  the  rib  of  the 
same  whale  serves  for  a  beam  in  a  cow  shed. 

"One  of  these  Cape  Anne  giants  had,  on  some  wet 
day,  chopped  out  a  chair  and  a  settee  of  granite,  and  I 
saw  them  in  his  front  yard.  Not  far  away,  I  found  a 
big  ring  cut  an  inch  deep  into  a  wide  flat  rock,  as  if 
some  giant's  wife  going  by,  had  there  set  down  her 
wash  tub  to  rest.  When  I  returned  to  my  lodging,  my 
landlord  was  splitting  wood  on  a  huge  stone  chopping 
block  in  his  back  yard,  the  axe  going  through  to  the 
stone  every  time.  He  remarked  that  he  liked  it,  the 
block  was  so  solid.  The  axe  bore  a  dull  testimony  to 
some  months  of  hammering  stone.  These  stone  men 
of  Stone  Cove  are  worthy  representatives  of  the  stone 
age  of  the  world,  and  there  are  giants  in  these  days. 
Are  not  the  Anakims  and  Zamzummins  still  among  us  ? 

"  All  this  I  discovered  before  breakfast.  My  appe 
tite  was  by  this  time  very  decided  in  its  demands. 
Jaw  and  tooth  were  ready  to  take  hold  of  all  ordinary 
provender,  like  sledge  and  drill  on  granite.  I  was 
ready  for  a  steak  of  stone.  But  my  landlady  placed 
upon  the  table  that  luscious  chocolate-colored  mess 
which  —  plus  pods  —  tempted  Esau, —  though  the  Yan 
kee  woman  had  the  beans  baked,  not  stewed.  I  had  a 
hard  battle  to  get  my  share  from  the  old  salt  who  pre 
sided  at  the  head  of  the  table.  He  said,  however,  that 
he  never  liked  beans  much,  but  most  of  his  neighbors 


STONE   COVE.  135 

were  very  fond  of  them.  When  he  was  a  cabin  boy, 
sailing  the  Indian  seas  under  a  British  flag,  a  signal  of 
distress  was  seen  one  morning,  and  they  bore  down  to 
relieve  the  stranger.  .  She  proved  to  be  from  Stone 
Cove.  And  her  captain  was,  by  reckoning,  more  than 
ten  thousand  miles  from  home,  with  only  half  a  bar 
rel  of  beans,  and  he  never  could  bring  his  ship  to 
port  on  that.  My  host  remarked  that  the  folk  this 
way  make  no  use  of  the  esculent  compared  with  the 
people  up  the  Cape,  who  on  great  occasions,  such  as 
ordinations,  are  obliged  to  use  Wenham  Lake  for  put 
ting  their  beans  to  soak  before  cooking." 

The  parson  does  not  relate  his  adventures  upon  the 
first  Sunday  in  his  new  parish ;  and  I  may  as  well  tell 
it  for  him.  He  needed  out  door  exercise  to  fit  him 
for  preaching.  He  also  loved  to  study  his  sermons 
in  some  forest,  and  pull  illustrations  fresh  from  the 
branches  they  grew  on.  It  was  nine  o'clock  upon  this 
Sunday  when  he  took  to  the  woods.  The  path  was  one 
of  the  most  charming  I  ever  trod.  Instead  of  turning 
when  the  path  grew  beautifully  less  and  wound  up  a 
tree,  he  struck  into  a  shrub-covered  valley,  then  entered 
upon  rising  ground  and  soon  upon  new  hills.  At  ten 
o'clock  he  was  thoroughly  out  of  reckoning  and  had 
to  take  his  tall  hat  up  a  tree  to  find  out  where  he  was. 

Lost,  and  in  the  top  of  an  oak,  two  miles  or  more 
from  his  meeting-house  half  an  hour  before  service 
time !  Little  did  his  people  know  of  the  Wild  Man 
side  of  their  minister.  He  was  in  the  pulpit  promptly, 


136  STONE   COVE. 

and  the  good  deacons  said  it  was  a  day  of  quickening, 
as  if  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  wrought  through  their  new 
minister.  His  aspiring  and  perspiring  in  that  tall  tree 
did  him  good. 

Cephas  felt  it  to  be  one  of  the  first  duties  he  owed  to 
himself,  as  soon  as  he  was  fixed  in  Stone  Cove  to  unfix 
himself:  to  begin  at  the  head  of  Plum  Island,  and 
coast  round  to  Nahant,  with  walking  stick  for  mast  and 
sole  leather  for  ship-timber.  He  always  walked  up  the 
wind ;  so  as  to  get  the  fresh  life  of  the  sea,  when 
breaking  waves  weighted  the  atmosphere  with  their 
subtile  tonic. 

"  Some  days,"  said  Cephas,  "  I  envy  the  Wandering 
Jew;  and  wish  I  could  take  a  few  hundred  years  to 
follow  the  coast  line  of  all  the  world.  I'd  do  it  for  my 
first  regular  walk ;  and  take  a  thousand  years  for  it." 

In  the  summer  season,  Cephas  slept  many,  nights  in 
what  he  called  the  "  Massachusetts  General  Hospital." 
That  is,  in  the  health-giving  "  Coast  Range  "  of  Massa 
chusetts.  Beginning  with  isolated  peaks  in  the  north 
ern  part  of  Essex  county,  there  are  regular  Rocky 
Mountains  in  miniature,  extending  to  the  neighborhood 
of  Boston,  and  rising  for  once  on  the  south  in  the  Blue 
Hills.  This  range  is  so  well  wooded  on  its  flanks  that 
Cephas  once  walked  from  Newbury  Oldtown  to  Mel- 
rose  in  the  woods,  except  when  crossing  roadways. 

The  Stone  Cove  minister  made  himself  at  home,  all 
over  Cape  Anne ;  he  knew  every  hill,  ledge  and  boul 
der,  every  forest  road,  path,  pathless  wild,  or  rugged 
pasture,  between  Pigeon  Hill  in  Rockport  and  Witch 


STONE   COVE.  137 

Hill  in  Salem.  Every  inch  of  the  shore  was  his ;  and 
every  creek,  rill,  and  swampland  knew  his  step. 

"  I  need,"  said  this  Stone  Cove  minister,  "  to  culti 
vate  the  wild  beast  within  me,  at  least  a  day  or  two 
every  week." 

I  once  noticed  a  section  of  the  backbone  of  a  whale 
lying  under  Cephas'  study  table  for  a  cricket.  My  eye 
fixed  upon  certain  characters,  which  were  never  placed 
there  by  the  original  whale:  — III  :  HXPI  :  LX  :  KW. 

"What  is  that  whale  talking  about?"  I  asked. 

"  He  is  a  life  insurance  agent ;  represents  the  Atlan 
tic;  wants  to  know  how  long  I  expect  to  live,"  replied 
Cephas. 

"  And  what  do  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  I  propose  to  live  till  I  am  sixty  years  old.  I  can 
do  it,  if  I  have  backbone  enough.  I  have,  therefore, 
spliced  my  purpose  with  this  vertebra  of  a  whale." 

The  great  projects  for  which  he  lived,  acted  like 
clock  weights,  compelling  Cephas  to  regular  system  in 
the  business  of  keeping  well.  His  physical  condition 
demanded  constant  care  in  using  the  natural  means  of 
health,  if  he  would  carry  out  his  life  plans. 

"  In  order  to  succeed  in  this,"  was  the  motto  I  saw 
pasted  in  the  top  of  the  Red  Trunk,  "  live  one  day  at  a 
time:  keep  perfectly  well  to-day;  study  what  you  can 
to-day;  do  to-day's  duties,  and  do  no  more."  And 
another  motto  was  borne  on  the  inside  Cephas'  hat :  — 
''The  grand  secret  of  keeping  well  is  found  in  actually 
keeping  well  every  day :  doing  work  enough  and  play 
enough  each  day."  It  was  on  this  account,  that  he 
kept  the  wild  beast  within  him  in  good  condition. 


I38  THE  SHAGBARK. 


XL 
THE   SHAGBARK. 

CEPHAS'  wanderings  were,  however,  never  aimless, 
the  mere  wandering  of  a  wild  creature  in  the  out 
skirts  of  towns.     Was  it  not  said  that  Hercules 
after  his  greatest  labors,  retired  into  deserts  that  he 
might   reflect   upon   his   divine   origin   and  renew  his 
vigor  ? 

I  have  a  very  unwieldy  and  awkward  looking  Shag- 
bark  cane  now  standing  in  the  corner  of  my  study.  It 
belonged  to  Cephas.  I  could  never  use  it  much  on 
account  of  its  weight.  It  is  marked  with  strange  de 
vices  j  but  I  never  knew  their  meaning.  It  was  never 
kept  among  the  armful  of  old  sticks  of  all  shapes  and 
lengths  and  sizes  which  under  the  name  of  canes 
usually  adorned  one  corner  of  Cephas'  study.  He  did 
not  take  it  when  I  walked  with  him ;  but  had  it  some 
days  while  he  was  at  Stone  Cove,  when  I  unexpectedly 
found  him  in  my  forest  range  at  Manchester,  or  when 
he  was  on  "  a  regular  tramp"  as  he  called  it.  When  I 
met  him  on  such  days  he  was  very  apt  to  slip  my  com 
pany.  Having  once,  however,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
cabalistic  characters  on  the  Shagbark,  I  concluded 


THE  SHAG  BARK.  139 

there  was  something  unique  about  it ;  and  I  came  at 
last  to  associate  that  in  my  mind  with  certain  days 
when  his  conduct  or  appearance  was  a  little  more 
unaccountable  than  usual.  There  was  a  secret  here, 
concerning  which  I  was  not  at  liberty  to  ask. 

In  some  of  these  Shagbark  days,  as  I  called  them,  I 
noticed  in  him  not  only  an  unusual  but  an  astonishing 
mental  vigor  and  buoyancy  of  spirit ;  and  I  knew  not 
but  a  good  daemon,  like  that  which  often  spoke  to 
Socrates,  had  possession  of  my  friend.  When  I  said 
anything  which  would  have  given  him  an  opportunity 
to  speak  of  this  mystery,  he  was  reserved ;  and  I  saw 
there  was  a  something  between  him  and  me,  as  indeed 
there  had  been  when  we  were  children  together.  What 
I  know  about  this  I  found  out  in  little  snatches  of 
conversation,  but  mainly  by  my  acquaintance  with 
Cephas'  papers  since  his  death. 

How  he  came  to  cut  the  Shagbark  is  related  in  one 
of  the  rough  notes  I  have  found  in  his  pigeon-holes. 
It  appears  to  have  been  written  in  Nuntundale  early  in 
his  ministry. 

"  One  afternoon,"  says  the  manuscript,  "  I  went  down 
to  a  promontory  jutting  into  the  sea ;  and  there  at 
about  nightfall  climbed  a  shagbark  upon  the  very  peak 
of  the  hill.  This  wild  pasture  rises  in  a  gentle  green 
slope  from  the  harbor  on  the  one  side,  and  in  high  cliffs 
steep  from  the  sea  on  the  other.  A  valley  of  sand 
ploughs  into  one  portion  of  it ;  and  acre  upon  acre  of 
out-cropping  ledge  mars  the  greater  part  of  its  surface. 
A  few  apple-trees,  which  have  blossomed  for  several 


140  THE  SHAGBARK. 

generations  still  bear  fruit.  Cedar,  oak,  bayberry,  bar 
berry  and  huckleberry  find  root  in  this  soil.  From  my 
high  perch  I  could  overlook  a  wide  district  of  rocky 
hill  and  forest,  river  fresh  and  river  salt,  islands  and 
beaches,  villages  and  villas,  spires  and  masts  and  light 
house  towers  rising  from  city  and  sea.  The  western 
woods  were  glowing  with  the  last  rays  of  daylight,  and 
darkness  was  settling  upon  the  town.  Occasional  white 
waves  were  rising  under  the  stiffening  breeze  upon  the 
near  sea,  which  was  still  light-bearing  like  a  mirror 
with  mottled  surface  j  and  night  was  fast  shutting  down 
upon  the  more  distant  deep. 

"  But  I  little  heeded  these  surroundings,  only  as  they 
aided  me  in  the  process  of  coming  to  myself  again.  I 
had  not,  for  a  long  time,  been  quite  myself.  Spiritual 
purposes,  feelings  and  habits  were  awry;  the  intellect 
was  becoming  more  and  more  dormant  and  unreliable ; 
and  my  physical  condition  was  bad.  Sitting  almost 
motionless  for  an  hour  or  two,  save  when  disturbed  by 
the  violence  of  spiritual  agony  or  wrestling,  I  held  in 
my  hand  the  Words  of  Jesus,  and  plead  with  Him  to 
fulfil  His  promises  for  my  own  upbuilding  in  an  effi 
cient  life.  And  there  I  settled  it  just  what  the  matter 
was  and  what  was  the  remedy, —  the  faithful  adherence 
to  a  certain  habit  long  useful  to  me  as  a  fountain  of 
spiritual  force  and  comfort,  but  not  infrequently  neg 
lected.  And  I  cut  from  that  tree  a  Shagbark  cane  to 
carry  with  me  henceforth  in  my  new  pilgrimage." 

This  "  certain  habit "  had  some  hold  on  him  when  he 
was  a  child.  As  I  walked  beside  him  the  day  we  re- 


THE  SHAGBARK.  141 

turned  from  our  nutting  expedition,  when  I  went  to 
sleep  on  his  bag  of  walnuts,  I  did  not  understand  the 
secret  place  in  which  he  nourished  the  phantoms  whose 
faces  he  showed  me.  As  we  cracked  our  jokes,  or  ran, 
wild  as  two  colts  in  the  bracing  air  and  bright  sun, 
or  climbed  the  tallest  trees  to  gather  the  few  fair 
leaves  yet  flying  on  high,  I  did  not  know  what  I  now 
know,  that  in  all  those  days  of  boyhood,  he  was  in 
winter  evenings  often  in  the  secret  places  of  evergreen 
woods,  or  sheltered  nooks  of  the  stone  quarries,  con 
versing  with  a  Friend  more  dear  to  him  than  I  was : 
and  that  he  often  spent  half  the  night  in  his  chamber, 
or  a  whole  summer's  day  in  the  groves  or  by  the  side  of 
a  brook  or  on  the  height  of  a  hill,  studying  the  divine 
Word  and  gaining  moral  power  by  communion  with  the 
Source  of  all  Light  and  Love. 

And  this  "  certain  habit "  was  developed  more  or 
less  in  his  school  days.  But  it  was  not  till  a  twelve 
month  before  entering  on  his  professional  work  that  this 
course  of  life  was  strongly  fixed  upon  him.  Then  the 
Lord  began  to  open  his  eyes  ;  and  to  him  who  sat  in 
darkness  appeared  the  heavenly  light.  The  Lord 
smote  his  eyes ;  and  it  was  to  him  the  way  of  power. 
His  spiritual  vision  was  made  clear  by  it.  Henceforth 
he  had  less  need  of  the  sun  by  day  or  the  moon  by 
night :  the  Lord  became  to  him  the  Everlasting  Light. 
Fearing  blindness,  he  went  out  of  library  doors ;  bid 
ding  farewell  to  the  range  of  reading  he  had  planned. 
Henceforth  he  was  to  commune  with  God,  not  man,  and 
to  seek  inspiration  from  heaven ;  and  he  needed  no 


142  THE  SHAG  BARK. 

one's  pity.  He  was  led  in  a  way  he  knew  not.  All 
one  autumn  and  winter  he  was  compelled  to  walk 
during  the  long  evenings ;  and  those  miles  of  plank 
sidewalk  were  to  him  like  heaven's  golden  pavement. 
He  had  to  go  without  human  company,  for  no  friend 
would  trudge  with  him  in  the  cold  and  darkness  and 
storm,  hour  after  hour  and  night  after  night:  he  there 
fore  sought  celestial  Companionship.  He  came  at  last 
to  believe  the  divine  message,  take  God  at  his  word, 
and  converse  with  the  Infinite  Spirit  whose  presence 
had  been  often  unrecognized. 

As  the  months  rolled  on,  in  experimenting  on  the 
care  of  his  eyes,  he  found  he  could  get  little  use  of 
them  in  the  morning  hours;  he  therefore  shifted  his 
time  for  walking,  and  stuck  to  his  new  Companion.  It 
became  more  and  more  apparent  that  he  could  not  use 
his  eyes  at  all,  except  by  an  uncompromising  system  of 
exercise  and  walking  in  the  morning.  And  his  spiritual 
communion  in  these  hours  was  so  precious  to  him  that 
the  rigid  habit  was  at  last  his ;  and  it  became  like  iron, 
holding  him  in  firm  grasp.  I  find  many  endorsements 
among  his  papers,  in  which  the  loss  of  eyesight  in 
school  days  was  set  down  as  worth  more  to  him  than 
all  th'e  rest  of  his  discipline.  An  extra  course  of  par 
tial  blindness,  he  believed  the  best  thing  that  could 
overtake  any  candidate  for  the  ministry;  but  he  never 
made  me  believe  this. 

"  I  think,"  says  one  bit  of  paper  I  have  found  in  the 
Old  Red  Trunk,  "that  about  all  the  good  I  have  gained 
in  the  world  has  come  by  my  solitary  walks,  which  have 


THE  SHAG  BARK.  143 

been  made  necessary  by  my  eyes.  I  must  walk,  or  I 
cannot  read.  I  must  read,  therefore  I  walk ;  and  as  I 
must  go  alone,  I  seek  to  be  not  alone,  and  the  Father 
is  with  me." 

To  live  three  or  four  hours  out  of  doors  during  each 
twenty-four,  was  found  by  experiment  to  be  needful  to 
keep  his  body  in  condition  to  be  used  as  a  basis  for 
intellectual  and  social  activity;  and  he  came  to  count 
this  as  an  advantage.  So  in  every  way,  "a  certain 
habit"  gained  a  controlling  power  over  him.  And 
when  he  cut  that  Shagbark  stick,  it  was  not  the  begin 
ning  of  days  to  him,  but  a  stout  confirmation  and  new 
settling  of  that  which  had  long  held  sway  over  him. 

This  habit  was  greatly  quickened  by  the  experiences 
of  the  Phantom  House.  And  I  believe  that  he  kept 
much  in  the  company  of  the  Heavenly  Bridegroom 
after  that. 

I  find  from  my  friend's  papers,  that  he  dreamed 
often  of  the  Frigate  Bird ;  and  the  wild  life  it  leads  is 
in  some  respects  an  emblem  of  his  own.  My  acquaint 
ance  with  ornithology  is  so  limited  that  I  do  not  know 
much  about  this  strange  dweller  in  the  heights  above. 
I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  the  only  account  of  it  I  ever 
read,  is  in  one  of  the  notes  I  find  among  Cephas' 
papers.  I  have  heard  him  say  that  on  sea  voyages  he 
had  more  than  once  seen  this  bird.  But  some  old  ship 
masters  I  have  conversed  with  never  saw  it;  or  had 
seen  it  so  far  off  as  not  to  recognize  this  description. 

"  Tachypetis  Aquila.     The  man-of-war  bird,  or  frigate 


144  THE  SHAGBARK. 

bird,  lives  in  the  sky  over  the  seas,  and  stoops  to  the 
water  or  the  shore  only  for  food  or  at  the  breeding 
season,  never  for  rest.  Its  body  is  hardly  so  large  as 
that  of  a  domestic  cock ;  but  its  glossy  wings  are  fifteen 
feet  span,  and  the  tail  is  in  proportion.  Divested  of 
the  accessories  to  flight,  the  body  is  so  light  that  it  is 
easily  suspended  in  the  air.  The  feet  are  very  short ; 
and  it  is  so  impeded  in  land  movement  by  length  of 
tail  and  wing,  that  it  is  possible  sometimes  to  kill  one 
with  clubs  at  the  breeding  time,  The  bird  is  a  robber, 
a  man-of-war,  a  pirate,  living  upon  what  it  steals  by 
attacks  on  fishing  birds.  This  frigate  of  the  air  is 
sometimes  seen  by  sailors  amid  the  tropics  at  noonday, 
sailing  in  circles  high  over  the  masthead ;  and  again  it 
is  seen  in  the  night  far  north,  amid  the  fires  of  the 
aurora,  as  if  moving  upon  still  wings  through  swift 
shooting  flames.  Week  after  week,  and  year  after 
year,  it  lives  in  the  air.  It  sleeps  on  expanded  wings, 
perhaps  five  thousand  feet  above  the  sea ;  floating  like 
a  cloud  from  continent  to  continent.  Its  flight  is  five 
or  six  times  as  swift  as  the  railway  trains,  eighty 
leagues  an  hour.  This  bird  finds  perpetual  light  of  sun 
or  moon  or  stars :  for  when  winds  begin  to  rock  this 
man-of-war,  and  the  storm  is  wild,  there  is  always  a 
calm  space  far  above,  where  the  bird  may  sleep,  or  ply 
its  wings  in  security." 

So,  by  the  shores  of  the  sea  Cephas  was  longing  for 
the  most  elevated  kind  of  life  possible  to  him;  as  if 
always  dwelling  on  high.  To  him  the  upper  air  had 
unspeakable  charms.  It  was  his  early  aim  to  obtain 


THE  SHAGBARK.  145 

the  highest  wisdom  in  laying  out  his  life-work,  and 
the  greatest  degree  of  power  possible  for  completing 
that  work.  If  he  had  high  aims  in  life,  he  chose  also 
the  best  means  of  success.  He  supposed  that  the 
highest  achievements  possible  to  man  could  be  wrought 
only  by  help  of  the  Holy  One.  To  test  the  problem  of 
obtaining  power  in  prayer  was,  therefore,  his  purpose 
quite  early  in  life. 

He  took  the  words  of  the  Old  Record,  believing  that 
the  experiences  of  Moses,  and  Samuel,  and  Elijah,  and 
Daniel  were  put  into  it  for  instruction.  He  tried  hard 
to  learn  the  lesson,  and  thought  to  do  it  by  the  Bible 
method, —  taking  time  enough.  To  give  this  matter 
thorough  trial  was  the  best  use  he  could  think  of,  for 
the  choicest  hours  of  weeks  together.  He  would  know 
what  the  Bible  men  knew,  or  know  that  there  was 
nothing  in  it.  If  in  ancient  days  the  prophets  of  God 
spent  much  time  in  wandering  alone  with  Him,  crying 
to  Him  for  the  help  they  needed,  for  quickening  revela 
tions  and  words  and  powers  from  Him,  he  was  inclined 
to  experiment  in  the  same  line ;  and  this  in  no  expecta 
tion  of  becoming  a  revealer  of  bibles  to  men,  but  with 
the  clear  and  fixed  hope  that  the  Holy  One  would 
awaken  all  his  nature  and  develop  every  faculty. 

And  if,  besides  intellectual  and  spiritual  growth,  he 
could  become  mighty  to  walk  and  to  run,  to  be  strong 
physically,  he  chose  this  walking  with  God  in  solitary 
places  as  the  best  use  to  which  he  could  put  many 
hours  every  week.  This,  then,  was  the  real  meaning  of 
the  Shagbark,  so  far  as  I  now  know  it.  It  was  his 


146  THE  SHAG  BARK. 

purpose,  I  suppose,  so  long  as  the  tough  wood  might 
wear,  to  bear  it  forth  on  daily  journeyings,  as  he  sought 
with  some  literalness  to  walk  with  the  Lord. 

"He  who  has  learned  to  prevail  in  prayer,"  Cephas 
wrote,  "  stands  upon  the  grandest  heights  of  the  world. 
The  closet  is  the  place  of  honor:  the  closet  is  the  place 
of  power.  How  poor  and  mean  life  seems  if  it  be  be 
reft  of  those  hours  in  which  the  Spirit  strives  within, 
with  inexpressible  anguish  and  groanings  that  cannot 
be  uttered." 

And  I  have  found,  pinned  to  the  bit  of  paper  upon 
which  this  note  was  written,  another  which  he  had  com 
piled  from  the  Vishnu  Purana.  This  clearly  indicates 
that  in  his  mind  the  Christian  precept  and  the  Pagan 
example  are  not  far  apart :  — 

"  I  have  read  that  the  ascetic  prince  Dhruva,  as  a  boy 
of  five  years  old,  was  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
Vishnu;  and  the  divinity  so  filled  his  soul  that  the 
earth  could  no  longer  bear  his  weight.  '  As  he  stood 
upon  his  left  foot,'  says  the  story,  'one  hemisphere 
bent  beneath  him ;  and,  when  he  stood  upon  his  right, 
the  other  half  of  the  earth  sank  down.'  Then  the 
mother  of  the  prince  tried  to  divert  him  from  his 
prayers;  and  she  besought  him  with  tears,  but  he 
heeded  them  not.  Fierce  tempters  by  day,  with  fiery 
countenances  and  terrible  arms,  availed  not.  Fiends 
by  night,  whirling  threatening  weapons,  could  not  make 
him  cease  from  his  devotions.  Goblins  and  monsters 
with  roar  and  yell  were  unheard.  The  child  was  en 
grossed  with  only  one  idea,  and  saw  only  Vishnu's 
presence  in  his  soul. 


THE  SHAGBARK.  14? 

"  So  he  incessantly  advanced  towards  superhuman 
power  by  his  devotions.  And  as  the  jealous  gods 
besought  Vishnu  to  alky  the  fervor  of  his  meditations, 
the  supreme  power  answered,  '  The  lad  desireth  neither 
the  rank  of  Indra,  nor  the  solar  orb,  nor  the  sover 
eignty  of  wealth  or  of  the  ocean.  All  that  he  solicits  I 
will  grant.'  Then  when  Hari  said  to  the  boy, '  Demand 
what  boon  thou  desirest,'  the  child  answered,  '  If  the 
Lord  is  contented  with  my  devotions,  let  this  be  my 
reward, — that  I  may  know  how  to  praise  him  as  I 
wish.  *  *  My  heart  is  overflowing  with  devotion  to 
thee.  O  Lord,  grant  me  the  faculty  worthily  to  lay 
mine  adorations  at  thy  feet.' 

"What  though  the  sequel  of  this  wonderful  story  is 
full  of  the  strangely  grotesque  imaginations  of  the 
Hindu  mythology?  This  part  is  a  lesson  for  me.  If 
by  spending  my  hours  in  prayer  and  praise  I  could 
gain  the  highest  reward,  should  I  not  choose  to  have 
bestowed  upon  me  new  power  in  self-devotement  to  the 
Lord  of  all?" 


148  COLD  SPRING  MEADOW. 


XII. 

COLD  SPRING  MEADOW. 

foot  paths  about  Manchester  open  the  most 
delightful  walks.     They  measure  far  more  miles 
•*•       than  the  public  roads.     Residing  in  the  parson 
age,  whenever  I  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  into  the  wild, 
I    climbed    over   my   back   fence,    and   in   a   moment 
entered  the  lane  back  of  the  old  Murray  house;  then 
took  the  foot  path  which  leads  past  the  old  mill,  where 
I  crossed  the  stile  into  the  Cold  Spring  Meadow. 

I  was  sitting  on  this  stile,  one  morning,  reading 
about  an  ancient  Arabian  poet  before  the  time  of  Mo 
hammed.  Kutayir  was  asked,  "  how  he  managed  when 
poetry  became  difficult  to  him."  He  answered, — "I 
walk  through  the  deserted  habitations,  and  through  the 
blooming  greenswards;  then  the  most  perfect  songs 
become  easy,  mid  the  beautiful  ones  flow  naturally." 
So  too,  the  prophet  of  Allah  pointed  to  the  poets  of  his 
own  day,  saying, — "  Seest  thou  not  how  they  rove,  as 
bereft  of  their  senses,  through  every  valley  ? "  Then  I 
called  to  mind  the  words  of  St.  Bernard,  when  he 
taught  that  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of 
wisdom,  and  that  the  inner  life  is  to  be  developed  by 


COLD  SPRING  MEADOW.  149 

daily  meditations.  "Thou  wilt,"  said  he,  "find  more 
in  forests  than  in  books.  Woods  and  stones  will  teach 
thee  what  thou  canst  not  learn  from  the  masters." 

Stepping  down  from  the  stile  I  picked  up  a  white 
beach  pebble,  upon  which  was  written  in  a  familiar 
hand : — 

.     .     .     .     "  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
sermons  in  stones." 

I  concluded,  from  this  token,  that  my  friend  Cephas 
must  have  left  his  pastoral  care  at  Stone  Cove  to  study 
in  my  neighborhood.  But  I  knew  him  well  enough,  to 
guess  that  he  would  foot  it  over  half  the  woods  and 
wild  pastures  in  town,  before  pulling  my  door  bell. 

I  was,  therefore,  little  surprised  to  find  him  a  few 
rods  farther  on,  lying  down  by  the  side  of  the  Cold 
Spring  j  which  was  bubbling  up  from  the  sands  under  a 
turfy  bank,  clear  and  sparkling  as  in  the  days  when  the 
first  settlers  of  the  town  named  this  pre-eminently  the 
"Cold"  Spring.  He  was,  as  usual,  writing  on  sundry 
bits  of  paper,  and  reading  over  what  he  had  written.  I 
heard  these  words: — 

"  Could  the  interior  life  of  the  most  ordinary  mind  be 
photographed,  or  fully  and  truly  written  out,  it  would 
be  more  wonderful  than  any  book  of  foreign  travel,  or 
any  history  of  kingdoms  and  battles,  or  any  biography 
yet  written.  To  observe  one's  own  mental  operations, 
and  to  note  the  common  experiences  of  the  soul, —  this 
is  a  path  too  little  frequented,  a  foot  track  to  self 
knowledge." 


ISO  COLD  SPRING  ME  ADO  IV. 

"Cephas,  Cephas,  ho!"  I  cried. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  as  though  he  heard  the  whiz 
zing  of  an  Indian  arrow,  and  faced  about. 

"Just  the  man  I  want.  I  was  trending  your  way 
this  morning.  Went  to  the  stile  and  turned  back  for 
an  hour." 

It  required,  however,  no  hard  work  to  persuade  him 
to  go  into  the  woods  again  for  a  long  walk, —  as  I  had  a 
horrible  fit  of  indigestion,  which  I  was  compelled  to  be 
rid  of  before  Sunday. 

"  Health ! "  answered  Cephas.  "  I  don't  walk  for  my 
health !  I  have  run  in  the  woods  till  I  love  it.  I  be 
gin  to  long  to  be  a  savage  and  go  wild." 

"  Begin  to  be  a  savage  ?"  I  asked.  "  I  thought  you 
began  years  ago,  and  that  nowadays  you  run  rather  to 
become  civilized  by  trying  to  study.  I  find  fragments 
of  your  sermons  all  over  the  Cape.  Your  sermons  im 
press  the  very  stones.  Put  that  in  your  sling  next 
Sunday,"  I  added,  handing  over  the  beach  stone  with 
the  Shakesperian  lines  on  it. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  said  my  companion  as  we 
crossed  a  little  stream  in  the  path,  "  about  this  business 
of  studying  so  like  fury  every  day.  My  ideas  do  not 
amount  to  much*  when  I  am  trying  hard  to  '  think '  as  I 
call  it.  All  my  best  thoughts  come  unasked  when 
I  am  roaming  abroad  in  a  mood  to  receive  ideas 
impressed  on  my  mind  without  seeking  for  them.  Per 
haps  I  can't  make  you  understand  just  what  I  mean; 
but  I  feel  very  decidedly  that  the  healthiest  kind  of 
thinking  is  that  which  a  man  of  physical  vigor,  good 


COLD  SPRING  MEADOW.  151 

sense  and  cultivated  mind  gets  in  his  hours  of  apparent 
idling.  The  wild  birds  do  not  bring  forth  young  every 
day;  they  fly  through  the  forests,  over  gardens  and 
grain  fields,  over  the  margins  of  the  sea,  or  over  moun 
tain  ranges,  and  gather  vigorous  life  a  great  part  of  the 
year.  But  there  are  many  of  us  who  do  not  imitate 
the  wild  birds ;  we  are  like  domestic  fowl  laying  com 
mon  sort  of  eggs  diligently  every  day,  which  may  at 
any  time  with  short  notice  be  brooded  over  and  hatched 
by  wide-mouthed  quacks,  or  even  by  machinery." 

Approaching  now  the  little  cluster  of  pines  whose 
needles  so  thickly  strew  the  ground  on  the  left  of  the 
path  before  crossing  the  wall  into  the  orchard,  I  turned 
my  eyes  toward  the  inviting  covert  and  saw  upon  the 
ground  a  pocket  Bible,  and  sundry  sheets  of  paper. 
The  book  was  a  new  one. 

"  If  that  was  your  Bible,"  said  I  to  my  comrade,  "  I 
should  say  that  this  paper  must  be  another  division  of 
your  sermon." 

Picking  up  the  book,  I  found,  on  the  fly,  these 
words, — "  My  soul  breaketh  for  the  longing  that  it  hath 
unto  thy  judgments  at  all  times."  Taking  a  sheet  of 
the  paper,  I  found  it  scratched  all  over  with  a  singular 
compound  of  Maxdecroix  and  original  short  hand  char 
acters  and  long  English. 

Slowly  I  made  my  way  through  the  opening  senten 
ces  : — "  I  live  in  a  perpetual  morning,  as  if  I  was  always 
circling  the  earth  with  the  day  dawn.  I  silence  the  din 
of  the  world  that  I  may  be  for  some  hours  alone  with 
God.  This  gives  me  vigor  for  the  remainder  of  the 


152  COLD  SPRING  MEADOW. 

day, —  as  if  the  elasticity,  freshness  and  strength  of  the 
day  dawn  were  maintained  till  after  sunset.  The  most 
intense  living  comes  through  kindling  the  soul  in  soli 
tudes,  setting  it  all  on  fire  every  morning.  We  let  the 
flames  go  down  at  night,  cover  the  embers,  and  sleep ; 
but  morning  by  morning  we  must  renew  the  heat  from 
heaven.  I  take  to  myself  the  motto  of  Pythagoras, — 
'In  the  morning  solitude.'" 

Stowing  Book  and  papers  into  one  of  his  big  book- 
pockets,  Cephas  proposed  that  we  step  over  the  wall, 
and  club  certain  sour  apple  trees.  Our  mouths  were 
soon  turned  into  cider  mills.  We  craunched  the  juicy 
fruit  in  crossing  Pople  Plain ;  and  then  took  a  pleasant 
path  winding  about  a  hill  side,  which  was  adorned 
with  brilliant  shrubs  and  scattered  trees  in  high  color, 
mingled  here  and  there  with  dark  evergreens.  Just 
before  coming  on  Wild  Cat  brook,  the  path  turned  to 
the  right,  threading  a  thicket  of  young  pines ;  and  then 
we  brushed  along  the  yellow  leaves  of  beeches,  which 
were  trying  hard  to  hide  the  narrow  footway.  Bearing 
to  the  left,  we  made  the  crossing  of  the  brook  in  a 
valley  long  desolated  by  the  axe,  now  growing  to  be  a 
vale  of  beauty  by  a  surprising  variety  of  young  timber ; 
glowing  that  day  with  bright  tints,  as  if  an  army  with  a 
thousand  banners  were  flying  their  colors  in  the  sun. 

"  Thank  God  that  so  much  of  the  earth  is  left  wild 
for  man  to  go  pasturing  in,"  said  my  comrade  as  we 
looked  up  the  valley. 

After  gazing  for  a  moment  at  the  abrupt  hill  on  the 
left,  and  the  wooded  crest  on  the  right,  we  moved  along 


COLD  SPRING  MEADOW.  153 

an  old  wood  road  under  the  great  beech;  whose  inter 
locked  arms  invite  the  repose  of  every  passer  by, —  as 
if  the  very  trees  of  Manchester  were  vying  with  the 
townsmen  in  the  cabinet  business.  In  a  moment  more 
we  came  upon  the  saw  mill,  which  is  to  this  part  of  the 
Essex  Woods  the  grand  starting  point  for  all  manner  of 
pleasant  adventures.  There  is  no  work  going  on  for  so 
large  a  part  of  the  year  that  every  loiterer  may  occupy 
it  as  his  own  for  the  hour,  as  much  as  if  its  wheel  would 
never  move  again. 

Crossing  the  dam,  we  were  in  a  little  while  among 
giant  pines;  whose  extraordinary  height  still  shows 
something  of  the  dignity  of  the  forest  primeval.  The 
solitude  of  these  cloisters  of  the  wilderness  is  rendered 
the  more  pleasing  by  the  sweep  of  the  vale ;  now  nar 
row  and  shut  in  by  rugged  hills,  then  wide  spread 
with  ample  views  and  free  rambling  before  one  passes 
over  a  crest  into  another  room  of  this  forest  temple. 
Without  path  we  wandered  at  will,  as  if  trying  to  lose 
ourselves  in  a  part  of  the  wood  unfamiliar  to  me. 
Winding  along  the  steep  north  side  of  a  hill,  where  the 
dark  damp  butts  of  the  trees  never  saw  the  sun,  and 
where  the  white  birch  is  blackened  by  continual  moist 
ure,  we  came  to  a  height  I  had  never  climbed  before. 
But  my  companion  knew  every  step.  Such  were  his 
habits  on  foot  that  after  abiding  for  a  time  in  any  region, 
the  view  from  any  height  was  like  looking  at  his  own 
house ;  every  hill,  grove,  stream,  sea  beach  or  headland, 
had  certain  associations  in  his  mind,  as  if  he  had  lived 
all  over  the  country, —  and  these  different  locations 


154  COLD  SPRING  MEADOW. 

were  the  chambers  where  he  had  slept,  studied  or 
prayed.  And  he  could  at  anytime,  anywhere,  call  up 
pictures  of  these  wild  rooms.  The  different  sentences 
of  his  sermons  were  associated  in  his  mind  with  these 
delightful  studies  all  over  the  wildernesses  of  sea  coast 
or  mountain  district. 

As  we  sat  here  looking  at  the  distant  sea,  wild  rocky 
hills  and  wide  range  of  forest  about  us,  my  companion 
pulled  a  letter  out  of  his  pocket  from  a  friend  on  the 
border.  The  writer  expressed  his  unbounded  delight 
in  doing  his  thinking  where  there  was  no  one  within 
fifteen  hundred  miles  who  would  care  what  he  thought. 
He  had  a  sense  of  independence,  to  him  refreshing. 

"  I  do  not  expect,"  added  Cephas,  "  to  be  really  satis 
fied  till  I  have  an  unpeopled  planet,  which  I  can  alight 
on  at  will,  for  my  study.  But  then  I  should  want  the 
fixing  of  it  first.  I  could  not  stand  flat  prairies  and 
treeless  plains.  All  I  should  care  anything  about 
would  be  mountains,  ravines,  forests  and  the  sea.  My 
potatoes  and  wheat  and  beef  'critters'  I  should  raise 
on  some  other  planet." 

"Do  you  remember,"  I  asked,  "what  that  sturdy 
New  Hampshire  pastor  once  told  us  on  the  beach? — '  I 
would  mind  my  business,  and  let  the  sea  mind  his 
business.'" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cephas,  "  but  it  is  a  part  of  my  busi 
ness  to  watch  the  sea ;  and  I  am  neglecting  my  business 
if  I  don't  do  it.  The  sea  is  to  me  a  perfect  tonic 
physically,  and  a  mental  inspiration.  My  mind  is  like 
a  tide  mill,  depending  on  the  flow  of  the  ocean  for 


COLD  SPRING  MEADOW.  155 

doing  its  work.  Inexhaustible  energies  come  to  me 
from  the  sea,  every  time  I  look  on  blue  waves  or  scent 
salt." 

Pursuing  our  pathless  way  again  we  did  not  leave 
our  rambling  till  we  found  the  Fern-faced  Ledge,  and 
stood  under  the  sounding  board  of  its  cold  pulpit,  and 
looked  into  its  pokerish  pockets  and  uncounted  crevi 
ces.  Here  frosts  and  rains  pry  off  huge  blocks  of 
stone,  which  are  carpeted  by  the  falling  foliage  of  the 
hemlock,  and  then  with  green  brakes  watered  by  secret 
springs ;  so  that  this  shady  nook  is  the  very  paradise  of 
mosses  and  ferns. 

Walking  homeward  together  arm  in  arm  upon  the 
high  road,  Cephas  and  I  still  conversed  about  the 
secret  of  the  highest  intellectual  life  possible  to  man. 

"  I  have  had  many,  many  days,"  said  I,  "  in  which  I 
have  been  like  a  mule  in  a  mill ;  but  it  is  my  wish  to 
lead  the  life  of  an  eagle  eyeing  the  sun." 

"Would  it  not  be  possible,"  asked  Cephas,  "for 
every  man  to  double  his  intellectual  force  by  keeping 
much  in  the  company  of  Infinite  wisdom  ? " 

The  relation  which  Cephas'  lonely  walks  bore  to  his 
indoor  studies  appeared  when  we  were  fairly  housed 
and  had  taken  to  our  books. 

"  Did  you  ever  think,"  asked  my  chum,  "  that  prayer 
is  needful  in  reading  as  much  as  in  writing?  One 
seizes  a  book  and  comes  at  the  heart  of  it  in  an  hour, — 
seizing  the  leading  points,  all  seed-thoughts,  and  skip 
ping  pages  of  mere  words, — when  he  has  just  been 
praying  over  it,  and  getting  the  mind  ready  to  do  its 
work  well,  and  to  do  it  quickly." 


156  COLD  SPRING  MEADOW. 

This  accords  not  ill  with  what  I  know  concerning 
the  proportion  of  my  friend's  life.  He  was  no  mere 
wild-wood  dreamer.  As  each  day  yielded  hours  for 
devotion,  so  each  day  of  health  found  him  at  his  books. 

"When  you  pray,"  wrote  Cephas,  "you  wonder  that 
the  Lord  does  not  descend  from  the  heavens  with  a 
shout.  But  go  back  to  your  study.  The  sun  will  rise 
tomorrow  and  pursue  his  journey  as  calmly  as  he  will 
in  the  millennium.  Christ  prayed  in  the  night ;  but  he 
had  wisdom  by  day.  Unhasting,  unresting,  plead  with 
God;  and  when  you  plead  with  man  be  sure  you  do 
it  intelligently." 


JACK'S  HILL.  157 


XIII. 
JACK'S    HILL. 

MILLETT'S  swamp  is  a  perverse  piece  of  ground, 
concerning  which  our  Manchester  people  quar 
reled  with  their  pastor  Millett  and  he  with  them, 
nearly  two  hundred  years  ago.     It  has  not  been  worth 
much  since,  except  for  a  trap  to  catch  ministers  in, — 
as  I  personally  know  from  miry  experience. 

I  never  did  see  a  piece  of  swamp,  but  I  wanted  just 
to  step  from  one  tuft  of  turf  to  another,  merely  to  see 
whether  I  could  get  over ;  and  if  the  turf  was  only  a  bit 
of  grass  and  a  little  water  and  unmeasured  depth  of 
mud,  it  made  no  difference  with  my  enjoyment  of  the 
splashing.  My  mother  never  could  break  me  of  going 
into  mud  puddles.  When,  therefore,  I  waded  through 
the  brushy  briery  and  thorny  chirography  of  our  old 
town  records,  and  found  out  that  this  whole  town  was  in 
a  muddle  for  some  years  about  the  minister's  swamp,  I 
heroically  determined  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  sub 
ject.  And  I  did.  It  is  two  feet  and  a  half  deep  in 
that  place  which  lies  between  Jack's  Hill  and  Mother 
Crombie's  hen  house.  The  soil  I  brought  out  on  my 
boots  was  mine,  and  just  about  my  full  share,  according 


158  JACK'S  HILL. 

to  the  vote  of  the  ancient  town  meeting  that  this 
swamp  be  "  for  the  use,  benefit  and  encouragement  of 
the  ministry  henceforth  and  forever."  I  took  my  share 
of  "encouragement"  when  I  pulled  myself  out  of  the 
depths  by  the  friendly  aid  of  an  alder. 

When,  therefore,  I  lately  found  in  Cephas'  Old  Red 
Trunk  certain  pieces  of  paper  with  marks  indicating 
that  he  uttered  substantially  these  words  in  hearing  of 
the  patient  alders  and  fir  trees  in  Millett's  swamp,  I 
was  inwardly  delighted.  The  ledge  where  he  stood  is 
sixty  feet  high,  as  abrupt  as  Spy  Rock.  Jack's  Hill 
was  for  the  time  his  pulpit. 

Whether  Cephas  went  to  Jack's  Hill  through  the 
swamp  on  that  occasion,  I  do  not  know ;  that  he  went 
through  the  swamp  on  some  day  is  morally  certain. 
Most  likely  that  evening  he  went  by  the  old  Essex 
road,  and  climbed  up  the  steep  back  of  this  rocky 
head,  which  looks  out  boldly  from  the  edge  of  the 
forest  upon  the  dwellers  in  the  town.  The  sentences 
which  I  will  now  transcribe,  appear  to  have  been  writ 
ten  out  at  some  leisure  after  the  ideas  had  been  first 
spoken  extempore  on  this  rocky  pulpit,  facing  Mil 
let's  swamp,  on  a  fine  summer  night.  It  was  at  the 
time  when  Cephas  was  living  at  Stone  Cove. 

These  remarks  were  evidently  addressed  to  an  imag 
inary  congregation  of  ministers  standing  up  to  their 
knees  in  the  swamp  and  stretching  out  their  arms  in 
stiff  gestures  like  so  many  dead  trees.  No  creature 
was,  however,  present  to  listen  except  a  screech-owl 
with  eyes  and  ears  wide  open,  whose  stuffed  form  is 


JACK'S  HILL.  159 

now  mounted  upon  my  mantel-piece  and  looking  down 
upon  me  as  I  write  his  biography.  He  was  caught  and 
skinned  by  the  Jack  Hill  preacher  for  hooting  in  ser 
mon  time.  The  off  hand  talk  which  the  owl  did  not 
appreciate  may,  properly  enough,  be  called 

CONCIO    AD    CLERUM. 

"  Beloved  hearers !  Weary  days  will  come  in  which 
you  will  take  up  the  words  of  the  prophet : — '  Oh,  that 
I  had  in  the  wilderness  a  lodging  place  of  wayfaring 
men ;  that  I  might  leave  my  people,  and  go  from 
them.'  Now  my  advice  to  you  is  to  take  a  stout  stick 
and  start. 

"  There  is  nothing  more  amusing  than  to  lose  your 
self  in  the  heart  of  some  small  forest,  not  more  than  a 
dozen  miles  in  diameter.  When  all  else  fails  this  will 
give  a  new  sensation.  It  is  easy  enough  to  do  it,  only 
walk  carelessly  and  become  so  absorbed  in  abstruse 
thinking  as,  for  the  time,  to  lose  the  instinct  of  direc 
tion.  You  need  to  make  many  turns  and  observe  no 
marks.  In  this  way,  whether  the  forest  is  new  or 
familiar,  you  can  soon  involve  yourself  enough  and 
have  no  correct  knowledge  of  the  points  of  compass. 
Then  you  will  look  on  all  things  with  strange  and  won 
dering  eyes,  even  if  the  objects  subsequently  prove  to 
be  well  known.  Being  reasonably  certain  of  getting 
out  without  very  distant  walking,  it  is  a  good  plan  to 
stay  lost  nearly  all  day ;  and  toward  sundown  make  a 
bee  line  somewhere  and  get  out. 


160  JACK'S  HILL. 

"  There  is  nothing  uncomfortable  about  this.  A  level 
headed  man,  accustomed  to  wild  life,  with  compass  and 
matches  and  a  bit  of  hard  tack  in  his  pocket,  will  never 
be  uneasy  or  have  any  true  sense  of  being  himself  lost. 
Paths,  towns,  villages,  may  be  so  lost  that  one  has  not 
the  least  notion  of  their  whereabouts ;  and  when  a  man 
is  tired  of  parochial  care  it  is  a  very  happy  thing  to 
have  them  stay  lost  till  it  is  absolutely  needful  to 
hunt  one  up. 

"  Can  you  not  imagine  that  it  must  be  a  perfect  di 
version  from  ordinary  cares  to  be  lost  in  a  forest? 
When  I  am  lost  in  the  woods,  I  don't  care  a  fig  whether 
X,  or  Z,  comes  out  ahead  in  a  public  quarrel.  I  only 
want  to  know  which  path  to  take  to  get  somewhere,  or 
whether  I  shall  find  any  path  leading  anywhere  except 
into  a  bottomless  bog ;  although  I  never  found  a  bog 
in  the  woods,  so  deep  and  dirty  as  the  miry  mess  some 
of  my  people  love  to  wade  into,  when  they  stir  things 
to  the  bottom  in  their  attempts  to  throw  mud  at  each 
other." 

Cephas  was  not  the  minister  to  foot  it  up  and  down 
past  the  houses  of  his  people  and  his  meeting-house, 
nervously  thinking  about  his  health,  and  worrying 
about  his  parishioners ;  he  went  out  of  sight  and  hear 
ing  of  them  all,  and  held  sweet  communion  with 
heaven.  He  walked  with  the  Lord,  that  he  might 
better  walk  with  men. 

"Do  you  think,"  said  the  concio  ad  derum,  "that  the 
demand  in  your  parochial  work  is  too  great  to  allow 
whole  days  for  prayer?  A  visit  with  God,  before  pas 
toral  visiting,  is  the  way  to  do  good  work.  Win  your 


JACK'S  HILL.  161 

man  at  the  throne  of  grace,  before  you  go  to  the  man. 
Take  a  hard  case  and  carry  it  to  God:  leave  the  hard 
ness  of  it  with  Him ;  and  take  away  with  you  the  case 
made  easy.  God  will  give  you  good  sense,  practical 
wisdom,  tact,  and  grace  to  handle  your  man  to  your 
mind ;  or  he  will  give  you  good  sense  and  grace  to 
bear  it,  if  the  man  will  not  be  moulded. 

"And  as  to  the  amount  of  time  to  be  taken  for 
prayer,  by  all  means  take  enough.  Do  not  return  from 
your  forest  path  until  you  know  that  God  has  heard 
you,  and  that  you  will  be  satisfied  with  the  answer 
whatever  it  is.  It  will  be  poor  economy  of  time  to 
go  pottering  about  the  parish,  taking  much  time  in 
bunglingly  trying  to  do  hard  things,  which  might  be 
skilfully  done  with  ease  in  short  space,  if  you  would 
only  go  to  God  to  know  just  how  to  do  it,  and  not 
quit  inquiring  of  Him  till  you  find  out." 

It  was  in  Cephas'  mind  reckoned  as  one  of  the  grand 
advantages  of  a  small  country  parish,  that  it  affords 
such  choice  opportunities  for  solitude  and  prayer  by 
the  hour  together  on  quiet  hills.  And  I  have  myself, 
sometimes,  thought  that  this  method  of  praying  all 
over  one's  parish  is  very  fit,  if  a  man  is  so  situated  as 
to  be  able  to  do  it.  In  a  small  compact  community,  a 
pastor  will  find  his  closets  in  solitudes  all  around  it; 
and  these  solitudes  may  thus  become,  as  it  were,  the 
defences  of  his  church,  as  the  mountains  around  Jeru 
salem.  Common  hills,  consecrated  by  prayer  and  bap 
tized  with  the  tears  of  supplication,  become  parts  of  a 
Holy  Land.  And  I  am  sure  my  life  seems  of  more 


1 62  JACK'S  HILL. 

worth  to  me,  in  these  later  days,  since  I  have  found  out 
these  hidden  experiences  of  my  friend. 

But  I  cannot  quit  Jack's  Hill  until  I  first  transcribe 
another  paragraph  found  among  Cephas'  papers,  the 
original  of  which  relates  to  this  granite  knob. 

"Go,"  says  the  manuscript,  "to  one  of  the  most 
dreary  ledges  and  lie  upon  your  face.  If  your  eyes  are 
full  of  tears  and  you  look  through  the  tears  into  the 
poor  thin  rock  moss,  you  will  behold  a  glory  singular  as 
if  heaven  itself  opened  to  you.  There  is  ah  unsus 
pected  depth  to  the  moss,  and  its  flakes  are  magnified. 
Its  foliage  seems  firm  and  vast  like  evergreens  on  a 
mountain  side.  Little  pebbles  appear  like  great  rough 
boulders.  The  coloring  is  wonderful,  beyond  anything 
ever  seen  in  the  common  world.  Minute  patches  of 
rock,  having  apparently  little  color,  glow  like  celestial 
fires j  the  hues  are  intense;  no  precious  stones  in  the 
crowns  of  kings  have  any  such  depth  and  watery  rich 
ness  ;  they  are  moist  as  if  with  the  dews  of  heaven ; 
they  rival  the  dew  drops.  Seen  through  tears  the  rock 
is  not  dry ;  it  is  not  common ;  it  is  not  desolate ;  it  is 
alive  and  growing  like  a  garden  of  God.  I  have  seen 
enchanting  visions  among  common  tree  tops  or  in 
looking  into  the  clouds,  and  strange  beauty  in  the  bot 
tom  of  brooks  or  shallow  ponds,  a  new  world  in  the 
grass  with  dew  upon  it, —  all  these  revealing  the  glory 
of  Goofc;  but  I  find  nothing  like  the  bleak  face  of  a 
ledge.  Therefore  it  is  that  I  prize  these  praying 
places  far  from  towns ;  and  I  behold  the  Infinite  Pres 
ence  in  things  common.  And  my  faith  is  immovable 
as  the  underlying  granite." 


THE  ENGLISH  HELEN.  163 


XIV. 

THE  ENGLISH  HELEN. 

CEPHAS'  work  at  Stone  Cove  was  suddenly  ter 
minated  by  his  seeing  an  advertisement  in  an 
English  paper  which  led  him  over  sea  to  search 
for  his  long-lost  brother.  Cephas  had  hoped  against 
hope.  The  idea  could  not  be  given  up  that  he  should 
sometime  see  his  own  brother's  face  again  among  the 
living.  He  never  ceased  to  inquire  in  divers  ways,  and 
read  regular  files  of  provincial  and  English  papers. 
Perhaps  it  was  some  boys'  talk  they  once  had  together, 
which  led  him  to  think  his  brother  would  make  for 
England,  if  he  could  get  there.  Once  I  heard  Cephas 
say  that  if  he  could  look  upon  every  face  in  London, 
he  thought  he  should  find  his  brother;  though  he  ac 
knowledged  that  this  was  a  mere  phantom  of  his, —  the 
fact  of  his  brother's  death  by  the  Indians  being  suffi 
ciently  well  established  to  satisfy  most  minds. 

The  advertisement  which  led  him  to  cross  the  Atlan 
tic  was  mere  gibberish;  several  letters  of  ftie  alpha 
bet  combined  in  the  most  arbitrary  way.  But  Cephas 
declared  that  it  could  be  interpreted  by  a  cipher 
which  he  and  his  brother  had  agreed  upon,  the 


1 64  THE  ENGLISH  HELEN. 

morning  they  started  to  run  away.  According  to  the 
key,  which  he  still  preserved,  he  had  his  brother's  ad 
dress  in  London. 

His  search  in  London  led  him,  singularly  enough,  to 
the  house  of  the  person  who  inserted  the  advertise 
ment.  And  he  found,  in  a  very  old  pocket-book  on  the 
premises,  a  key  of  the  cipher  like  his  own,  in  a  very 
boyish  handwriting.  Cephas  believed  it  had  been 
copied  from  that  of  his  brother.  The  owner  of  the 
pocket-book  had  just  died, —  having  been  unfortunately 
suffocated  by  a  hempen  collar.  He  had  come  to  Eng 
land  from  the  provinces.  Cephas  found  the  family  to 
which  the  young  man  belonged,  in  the  north  of  England. 
The  sisters  said  they  remembered  a  little  American  lad 
once  camping  near  their  old  home,  with  straggling 
Indians;  so  that  Cephas  finally  settled  on  this  as  a 
confirmation  of  the  Indian  theory  of  his  brother's 
death,  and  gave  up  the  search. 

Although  Cephas  did  not  find  his  brother,  he  did 
find  the  English  Helen, —  Nellie  as  he  always  called 
her.  The  letters,  that  came  to  me  before  his  return, 
conveyed  nearly  all  the  information  I  could  at  that 
time  gather  concerning  this  woman.  Cephas  rarely 
alluded  to  her  after  he  came  back ;  and  I  did  not  feel 
free  to  question  him.  Only  once  did  I  venture.  Soon 
after  his  return  I  asked, — 

"Whaf  about  the  English  Helen?" 
The  tears  started  in  his  eyes,  and  he  said, — 
"  Do  not  speak  to  me  of  any  one  bearing  that  name. 
There  is  only  one  Helen." 


THE  ENGLISH  HELEN.  165 

He  had  several  letters  from  Nellie,  and  often  wrote. 
If  he  happened  to  take  one  of  her  letters  from  the 
post  when  I  was  with  him,  he  would  voluntarily  read 
me  parts  of  it,  as  if  from  any  other  entertaining 
friend.  Her  letters  were  singularly  sprightly,  marked 
with  great  keenness  of  mind  and  good  sense.  This 
friendship  was  for  the  time  like  a  new  fountain  of  life 
to  him ;  filling  in  some  measure  the  need  which  had 
sorely  pressed  upon  him  since  the  breaking  up  of  his 
Island  Home. 

Some  things  concerning  the  English  Helen,  1  may 
suitably  relate ;  indeed,  it  is  needful  that  I  do  so,  since 
by  the  curious  turns  which  make  life  half  comedy  and 
half  tragedy,  her  life  was  subsequently  interwoven  with 
that  of  Cephas  in  a  somewhat  singular  manner. 

Her  father  was  an  energetic  business  man;  but  his 
line  was  not  one  to  make  him  more  manly,  or  to  en 
large  his  sympathies.  Thoroughly  engrossed  in  making 
money,  his  success  and  decision  led  him  to  tolerate  no 
opposition.  So  that,  at  last,  he  had  fixed  upon  him 
the  infirmity, — which  so  many  of  us  plead  guilty  to, — 
of  living  mainly  to  have  his  own  way.  Helen's  mother 
was  a  woman  of  unusual  mental  powers,  well  educated, 
of  marked  benevolence,  and  very  positive  religious  life. 

Unfortunately,  the  father  had  not  fallen  in  with  the 
wishes  of  his  only  child,  in  respect  to  her  friendships. 
One,  with  whom  she  had  been  most  intimately  ac 
quainted  since  childhood,  and  to  whom  she  had  been 
plighted  since  her  early  teens,  had,  a  few  years  before 
Cephas  met  her,  perished  upon  the  great  plains  of 


1 66  THE  ENGLISH  HELEN. 

America ;  having  first  escaped  from  the  red  men,  whose 
refined  tortures  made  him  choose  death  by  starvation 
in  hopeless  wandering.  The  horrible  details  of  this 
event,  coming  through  some  mischance  to  Helen's 
knowledge,  led  her  to  the  very  verge  of  madness. 

When  Cephas  met  her,  she  was  so  far  recovered,  as 
to  find  diversion  and  some  measure  of  new  life  in  the 
acquaintance  of  the  young  American.  At  this  time, 
the  father  was  urging  upon  the  daughter  a  match  singu 
larly  distasteful  to  her,  but  desirable  in  the  eyes  of  one 
who  worshiped  wealth. 

Cephas,  after  leaving  England,  met  mother  and 
daughter  upon  the  continent ;  their  acquaintance  ripen 
ing  into  a  warm  friendship.  His  letters  gave  glowing 
accounts  of  Helen's  charming  qualities.  Great  strength 
of  will  and  a  naturally  buoyant  disposition  were  ap 
parently  bringing  her  up  from  the  long  continued  ill 
health,  which  had  clouded  her  recent  years.  Unas 
suming,  unselfish,  well  proportioned  in  gifts  and  graces, 
thoroughly  disciplined,  of  much  native  force  of  intellect, 
she  seemed  to  Cephas  an  almost  perfect  woman.  And 
she  was  so  like  her  mother,  that  my  friends'  admiration 
was  equally  shared  by  the  two ;  the  mother  apparently 
little  the  older, —  the  ill  health  of  the  one  and  the 
youthfulness  of  the  other  having  made  them  like  com 
panions. 

When  Cephas  returned  to  America,  he  went  to  Rio 
and  to  New  Orleans  upon  charitable  errands  devised 
by  his  new  friends.  After  his  return  to  my  home  on 
Cape  Anne,  Cephas  remained  some  time  with  me; 


THE  ENGLISH  HELEN.  167 

and  then  went  to  California,  to  engage  in  ministerial 
labor.  But  he  was  soon  obliged  to  return ;  with  health 
so  impaired,  that  it  was  only  after  many  months  —  half 
play  and  half  work  —  in  two  or  three  seaboard  parishes 
of  Nuntundale,  that  he  became  fit  for  hard  service 
again. 

It  was  during  his  absence  in  California  that  an  inci 
dent  occurred,  which  excited  me  greatly  at  the  time. 
The  sensation  can  shock  no  reader  as  it  did  me.  The 
contrast  between  its  recital  and  the  chapters  which 
begin  and  which  close  this  story,  cannot  be  so  great 
as  the  incongruity  between  this  adventure  and  the 
sober,  studious  and  devout  life  of  Cephas. 

The  affair  grew  directly  out  of  his  recent  trip  to 
England.  Searching  for  his  brother,  he  became  some 
what  known  to  certain  officers  of  justice;  and  for  a 
time  he  was  a  lounger  about  police  courts  in  London. 
I  do  not  know  as  I  ought  to  say  that  his  face  was  one 
to  excite  suspicion:  it  is  certain  that  Helen  did  not 
think  so.  But  his  countenance  was  very  easily  changed; 
and  some  days,  he  wore  shockingly  bad  clothes,  to 
further  the  finding  of  his  brother;  besides,  his  Wild 
Man  nature  made  him  delight  in  strange  company. 
Cephas  told  me  that  one  day,  not  long  before  he  left 
London  for  the  continent,  he  heard  in  a  coffee  house 
that  a  warrant  was  out  for  his  arrest  for  supposed 
complicity  in  a  robbery.  He  gave,  however,  not  the 
slightest  credence  to  the  report,  and  was  quite  amused 
by  it.  But  just  before  he  left  me  to  go  to  California, 
he  received  word,  from  a  name  unknown  to  him  in 


1 68  THE  ENGLISH  HELEN. 

England,  that  a  certain  man  with  whom  he  had  been 
brought  in  contact  in  hunting  up  the  hanged  provincial, 
was  actually  in  pursuit  of  him.  Cephas  placed  little 
confidence  in  the  communication;  although  he  remem 
bered  having  caused  this  gentleman's  arrest,  and  his 
conviction  for  a  crime.  Wh.at  came  of  it  all,  will  be 
related  in  the  next  chapter. 


THE  ESSEX   WOODS.  169 


XV. 

THE  ESSEX  WOODS. 

A  FAVORITE  drive  for  the  lovers  of  Cape  Anne 
scenery  lies  through  this  famous  forest.  The 
thick  growth,  rough  boulders,  high  ledges, 
swamp  lands,  and  brook,  give  a  constant  charm ;  which 
is  heightened  by  the  varying  colors  of  different  seasons, 
the  changing  light  of  morning  and  evening,  the  shade 
at  noon,  or  quiet  hours  under  the  high  moon  near  mid 
night.  Reaching  out  from  this  roadway  are  the  paths 
of  the  woodcutter ;  and  if  the  pleasure  seekers  who  roll 
along  this  hard  way  with  fine  carnages  will  tie  up, 
strike  off  into  the  timber,  and  walk  for  a  score  of  miles, 
as  they  easily  may  without  seeing  human  face  or  cross 
ing  a  high  road,  they  will  know  that  the  woods  as 
well  as  the  sea  conspire  to  make  Manchester  the  most 
delightful  resort  upon  the  whole  New  England  coast. 

Half  a  mile  above  Baker's  saw  mill  a  rough  hill  rises 
from  the  edge  of  the  wet  and  scraggly  meadows  of  the 
brook.  It  may  be  readily  reached  in  winter  over  the 
ice.  In  summer  there  are  various  paths  from  the  pub 
lic  road.  To  me,  the  best  of  all  is  the  old  route, 
passing  the  mill  and  to  the  left  of  Shingle  Place  Hill. 


170  THE  ESSEX   WOODS. 

It  is  to  this  Beaver  Hill, —  named  for  the  old  beaver- 
dam  in  the  stream  below  it, —  that  I  will  invite  the 
reader  to  walk  with  me  on  an  autumnal  morning. 

Just  before  we  get  to  the  wall  beyond  the  clearing,  a 
fine  echo  may  be  awakened  by  speaking  to  the  wood- 
covered  hill  across  the  pond.  Civilly  addressing  the 
echo  and  bidding  him  good  morning, —  which  is  a 
cheering  thing  to  do  in  a  lonely  place, —  we  creep 
through  the  bars  like  a  sheep,  or  bound  over  the  top 
like  a  deer  —  if  we  can  imagine  a  deer  touching  the  top 
rail  with  one  forefoot.  We  then  look  about  the  wall  on 
the  right,  to  pick  up  one  of  the  rattlesnake  canes  I 
always  keep  in  store  there ;  a  cane  with  a  forked  foot 
having  the  prongs  pointed,  ready  to  pin  a  reptile  to  the 
earth  if  need  be.  Thus  armed,  we  walk  through  the 
snake  country.  All  this  region  abounding  in  broken 
ledges,  minute  caves,  boulders  piled  up  cobble  stone 
fashion,  and  old  trees  which  are  stepping  off  their 
rocky  foundations  with  roots  half  above  ground  as  if 
walking  away  in  search  of  soil  into  which  to  insert  their 
toes, —  this  is  the  very  paradise  for  snakes;  and  every 
straggling,  black,  brown  or  spotted  root  looks  like  one. 
But  Hildreth  of  "  Mount  Zion  "  has  cast  the  serpent  out 
of  this  Eden. 

If  I  have  the  story  correctly,  he  gained  his  living  one 
winter  from  a  rattlesnake  bank,  drawing  one  whenever 
he  was  short  of  money  and  carrying  it  to  the  selectmen, 
who  —  upon  his  allowing  it  to  dangle  about  their  legs 
—  paid  the  town  bounty  "at  sight."  Rattle  and  fang 
had  crept  for  winter  quarters  into  the  crevice  of  a 


THE  ESSEX    WOODS.  171 

ledge;  but  Hildreth  warmed  up  the  front  by  a  fire 
whenever  he  wanted  one  of  them.  As  the  heat  pene 
trated  the  cave  like  a  warm  spring  sun,  one  creeping 
thing  —  like  Noah's  adventurous  dove — ventured  forth 
to  see  what  sort  of  footing  the  snake  family  was  likely 
to  find  after  the  winter's  nap;  then  the  inhabitant  of 
"  Mount  Zion  "  took  the  half-wakened  prize  in  a  slip- 
noose  on  the  end  of  a  pole,  put  his  fire  out  and  went  to 
town.  This  process,  kept  up  for  some  months,  makes 
it  now  safe  to  walk  in  the  woods.  During  all  my  wan 
derings  I  never  heard  a  rattle  except  once  by  the 
roadside  toward  Gloucester, —  though  I  have  lunched 
and  napped  in  the  very  headquarters  of  these  pests, 
which  popular  imagination  plants  in  every  wide  forest 
and  on  every  pleasant  hill.  Old  woodsmen  tell  me 
that  they  have  rarely  seen  this  dreaded  reptile.  Never 
theless,  I  always  carry  a  forked  stick ;  and  have  several 
of  them  out  under  my  back  stairs  at  this  writing,  which 
have  traveled  far  without  one  victim. 

I  wish  I  could  take  every  one  of  my  friends  by  this 
path.  There  are  upon  it  so  many  stone  blocks  for 
seats  antl  for  study  tables,  that  I  am  frequently  drawn 
into  this  place  to  make  sermons.  I  would  rather  see 
trees  with  roots  in  the  air  torn  up  by  storms ;  or  look 
up  now  and  then  to  see  the  still  shower  of  red  and 
yellow  leaves ;  or  rise  to  drink  from  the  brook  in  the 
way;  or  walk  a  little  in  one  of  the  paths  which  open 
everywhere  as  if  the  woods  were  infinite, —  than  sit  in  a 
house,  and  see  wall  paper,  pictures  in  oil  and  steel, 
stuffed  chairs,  book  racks,  and  such  mean  furnishing 


172  THE  ESSEX   WOODS. 

for  a  study.  I  am  always  longing  for  this  grand  room 
in  the  forest,  or  some  room  with  the  sea  dashing  in  at 
one  side  of  it. 

All  the  morning  in  question  I  was  sauntering  along 
this  road,  note  taking;  sitting  on  stumps,  flat  stone 
tables,  or  astride  some  mill  log  left  by  the  way.  When 
I  reached  the  point  where  the  road  runs  into  a 
steep  rocky  hillside,  I  turned  to  the  left.  At  that  time, 
the  path  led  among  slender  and  graceful  trees,  lifting 
tufts  of  shade  like  youngj  palms  —  since  cut  and  sold 
for  cordwood.  I  then  followed  an  obscure  track  — 
now  wholly  overgrown  —  up  the  side  of  Beaver  Hill. 
Big  boulders  here  are  plenty  as  pumpkins  in  a  corn 
field. 

By  the  side  of  a  table  rock  I  found  what  appeared  at 
a  distance  like  a  buffalo  robe ;  it  proved  to  be  the  thick 
heavily  matted  roots  of  fern  and  brake  interwoven  till 
they  made  a  tough  blanket  four  inches  thick  and  two 
yards  square.  It  had  grown  on  the  rock  and  been 
rolled  off  by  the  wind.  This  natural  felt-cloth  I  seized, 
to  make  a  carpet  for  my  perch  where  I  proposed  to 
study.  Passing  to  the  very  crown  of  the  hill,  *there  is 
a  boulder  equal  in  size  to  twenty  feet  cube,  the  height 
perhaps  greater  than  the  width.  It  has  scratched 
along  the  ledge  in  glacial  times,  and  the  harrow 
stopped  moving  in  its  very  tooth  marks.  One  edge  of 
the  bottom  rests  on  the  planed  rock  below ;  the  other 
edge  is  tilted  up  three  feet  and  fixed  on  a  triangular 
stone,  which  itself  stands  on  one  of  its  corners.  As 
cending  to  the  top  of  this  eccentric  boulder,  a  fine  sea 


THE  ESSEX   WOODS.  1 73 

view  appears  in  the  southeast.  It  is  a  choice  resting 
place  for  one  who  dislikes  chairs  and  common  study 
tables. 

Carefully  climbing  by  aid  of  a  rough  pole,  with 
the  root  blanket  upon  my  shoulders,  my  head  was  no 
sooner  upon  a  level  with  the  top  than  I  saw  a  man 
lying  there  apparently  asleep.  Had  I  suddenly  found 
myself  lying  round  loose  in  an  unexpected  place,  I 
could  not  have  been  more  astonished :  for  he  had  on  a 
thick  drab  suit  like  mine  and  a  wide  soft  hat — good 
for  the  woods,  rain  or  sun ;  and,  though  his  face  was 
turned  from  me,  I  could  see  that  he  was  about  my  size. 
Rather  won  by  his  rig  to  claim  him  for  a  brother,  I 
gathered  myself  up  and  stood  beside  him,  so  holding 
my  mat,  which  had  not  been  shaken  or  dusted  since 
creation  —  that  I  could  easily  dash  it  into  his  eyes  to 
blind  and  confuse  him,  should  he  upon  waking  prove 
to  be  an  ugly  customer.  Bracing  my  foot  ready  for 
action,  I  said, — 

"  Good  morning,  my  friend." 

Without  turning  his  head,  I  saw  his  hand  moving, 
and  he  quickly  sprang  to  his  feet,  drawing  a  revolver  so 
suddenly  as  to  almost  throw  me  off  guard  and  off  the 
rock.  Relying  on  my  dirty  shield  and  weapon,  and 
particularly  upon  my  good  nature,  I  looked  him  in  the 
eye  —  my  own  eye  glowing  with  kindness  and  mirth  — 
and  said  again, — 

"  Good  morning,  my  friend." 

His  eye  did  not  change,  or  his  countenance ;  and, 
for  half  a  moment  he  seemed  to  pierce  me  through  and 


174  THE  ESSEX   WOODS. 

through  with  his  eyes,  and  to  hold  me  off  with  fixed 
lips.  But,  my  face  retaining  its  humor  unchanged,  he 
quietly  put  up  his  weapon  and  extended  his  hand,  say 
ing* — 

"  Good  morning." 

This  put  us  at  once  upon  a  free  footing  ;  which 
seemed  very  desirable  on  such  footing  as  the  narrow 
roof  of  the  rock  afforded.  And  we  sat  down  together 
upon  the  fibre  rug. 

"  It  is  only  a  little  while,"  said  I,  "  since  I  saw  two 
men  praying  together  where  we  now  sit ;  and  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  make  this  altar  run  blood." 

This  remark  drew  forth  the  beginning  of  an  oath, 
which  was  only  half  uttered;  then,  as  if  suddenly 
awakening  from  an  ill  dream,  he  turned  and  looked  me 
fully  in  the  face,  saying, — 

"  Do  you  pray  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  I,  "  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  swearer's  prayer,  in  oaths." 

We  were  silent  for  a  moment:  I  thinking  over  the 
man  I  had  found,  measuring  and  weighing.  As  I  had 
seen  him  standing,  he  was  an  inch  less  than  six  feet, 
and  a  hundred  and  forty  pounds  weight.  He  had  now 
thrown  his  hat  off.  His  high  forehead,  mild  deep  and 
easily  kindled  eyes,  sunburned  cheeks,  full,  dark  beard, 
showed  me  the  man  in  a  new  dhase.  He  was  about 
thirty  years  old  I  thought,  with  much  wickedness  over 
lying  fine  natural  endowments.  I  felt  a  singular  confi 
dence  that  I  had  seen  that  face  before,  —  where  I 
could  not  then  think ;  and  I  afterwards  concluded  that 


THE  ESSEX   WOODS.  175 

I  must  have  been  mistaken.  The  face  haunted  me  for 
months,  and  I  tried  to  remember  whether  I  had  not 
dreamed  about  him.  It  seems  like  a  dream  now,  as  I 
remember  him  standing  on  the  rock. 

"  Where  is  your  home  ? "  I  asked. 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  little  Testament ;  and, 
having  found  a  text,  looked  at  me  with  a  half  quizzing 
expression  —  mingled  jest  and  earnest — yet  with  an 
underlying  malice  as  I  thought.  Then  coolly  taking 
out  an  Arkansas  toothpick,  he  pointed  with  it  to  the 
words  (John  i :  39), — "  Come  and  see."  Upon  this,  I 
drew  out  an  old  bowie  knife,  which  once  appeared  as 
witness  in  a  California  court,  and  which,  coming  into 
my  hands,  I  often  carry  into  the  woods  and  in  far 
wanderings  on  dark  nights.  Picking  my  teeth  with 
the  point  I  looked  up  laughing  into  his  laughing  eyes, 
and  said, — 

"Well,  I'll  go  anywhere  with  you,  if  you  carry  the 
sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the  Word." 

As  if  I  might  be  a  companion  in  his  rascalities, 
whatever  they  were,  he  led  the  way ;  and  —  in  for  an 
adventure  —  I  nimbly  followed.  Going  down  the  north 
ern  slope  of  the  hill,  which  is  as  familiar  to  me  as  the 
steps  of  my  house,  I  saw  that  he  was  aiming  for  the 
Forty-foot  Boulder ;  which,  big  as  a  house,  lies  like  an 
egg  in  its  nest  in  th^bottom  of  a  swampy  basin,  whose 
sides  are  clad  with  birch  and  the  rim  with  pine.  The 
growth  of  the  timber  in  recent  years  now  hides  the  rock 
from  the  observer  upon  the  hillside,  and  conceals  the 
form  of  the  basin.  Gathering  up  a  handful  of  the 


1/6  THE  ESSEX   WOODS. 

delicate,  long  fingered  white  moss  found  near  the  de 
scending  place,  I  went  close  to  the  quick  heels  of 
my  companion  to  the  side  of  the  rock.  An  old  birch 
clinging  to  a  crevice  has  made  a  ladder  way  by  which 
to  ascend,  and  on  top  is  growing  a  pine  twenty-five  feet 
high.  My  new  found  friend,  spry  as  a  cat,  ran  up  the 
wooden  path;  and  I  followed.  Upon  the  top  was  his 
rifle  wrapped  in  a  blanket;  and  scattered  here  and 
there  were  a  dozen  eggs  and  shells,  a  bread  loaf,  a  few 
fagots,  and  the  marks  of  a  small  fire.  Standing  and 
leaning  his  back  to  the  pine,  he  asked  me  to  sit.  Fum 
bling  for  a  very  dirty  pipe  and  tobacco  pouch,  he 
began,— 

"  I  am  an  English  detective  searching  for  a  man 
often  in  these  woods.  You  know  him.  I  want  you  to 
help  me  find  him." 

Drawing  forth  several  pieces  of  British  gold,  he 
threw  them  into  my  hat  lying  at  his  feet,  saying, — 

"  I  know  who  you  are.  I  knew  your  boulder,  and 
lay  there  to  catch  you  far  from  the  town  where  I  must 
not  be  seen.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  you  must  now 
pledge  me  your  aid,  or  —  never  leave  this  rock.  It  will 
be  better  for  you  to  take  all  the  gold  you  want,  and 
help  me." 

This  was  said  so  quietly  and  decidedly  that  I  knew 
he  meant  business.  I  merely  ros^jto  my  feet,  saying, — 

"  You  do  not  dare  to  handle  a  pistol  so  long  as  you 
carry  a  New  Testament.  The  Word  of  God  will  not 
allow  you  to  do  me  harm.  I  saw  your  Testament  half 
sticking  out  of  your  coat  pocket  before  I  roused  you 
out  of  your  sleep." 


THE   ESSEX   WOODS.  177 

"Yes,  I  know  it,"  he  replied,  seating  himself  at  the 
foot  of  the  pine;  "but  you  know  my  man.  You  are 
helping  to  conceal  him.  I  will  have  him  in  my  power 
or  now  use  my  power  over  you." 

"  I  know  your  man,"  I  answered,  "  and  you  will  not 
find  him  or  harm  me.  I  had  heard  about  this  search 
and  about  you.  My  friend  is  in  California,  and  you 
may  catch  him  if  you  can." 

This  I  said,  looking  fixedly  into  his  eyes.  For  the 
first  time,  his  eyes  were  unsteady ;  then  I  knew  I  was 
master  and  that  he  was  merely  testing  my  will.  To  my 
surprise,  he  merely  drew  forth  a  well  worn  pack  of 
cards,  and  asked  me  to  have  a  hand:  saying,  in  a 
familiar  tone, — - 

"  Your  cloth  in  my  country  sometimes  try  a  game 
with  me." 

Said  I, —  "Let  us  be  merry  to-day,  and  make  a  fire." 

Drawing  a  match,  I  set  pine  needles,  dead  leaves  and 
twigs  to  burning ;  and  with  his  little  store  of  wood  there 
was  soon  a  bright  blaze. 

"My  friend,"  said  I,  "I  hate  tobacco  worse  than 
George  Trask  does,  and  cards  as  if  they  were  published 
by  an  Infernal  Tract  Society :  burn  both.  Come  to  my 
house  to-night;  we  will  walk  and  talk  to-morrow,  and 
then  you  will  ship  for  England.  If  I  hear  of  your 
hanging  around  these  woods  any  longer,  I'll  see  to  it 
that  you  hang  in  England,  surely  as  your  name  is 
Johns." 

The  stranger  poured  out  his  fine  tobacco  into  the 
flame ;  made  a  playhouse  of  his  cards  and  put  fire  into 


1 78  THE  ESSEX   WOODS. 

it ;  cracked  his  pipe ;  drew  out  a  brandy  flask,  poured 
the  spirit  into  a  cavity  of  the  rock  and  set  fire  to  it, 
broke  the  bottle, —  then  turned  to  me :  — 

"  I  am  not  the  man  you  take  me  for.  No  matter 
what  my  name  is.  I  like  your  eye,  and  I  believe  in 
that,  although  I  do  not  believe  in  your  profession. 
Your  friend  is  very  likely  beyond  my  present  reach. 
In  a  twelve  month  I  will  see  you  again, —  if  I  do  not 
find  him.  Meantime,  I  will  meet  you  to-morrow  morn 
ing  on  Image  Hill,  and  walk  down  shore  for  the  day, — 
then  be  off:  where,  you  need  not  ask.  And  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  you  if  you  will  get  a  letter  for  me  at  the  Post 
Office  to-night,  marked  Richard  Johnson.  But  give  me 
your  word  that  you  will  not  betray  me." 
I  said, —  "  Show  me  your  right  forearm." 
"  My  arm  is  not  Sam's  arm ;  it  is  clean,"  said  he. 
As  he  rolled  up  his  sleeve  I  saw  that  the  man  —  who 
ever  he  might  be  —  was  not  he  of  whom  Cephas  had 
spoken.  Rather  taken  with  the  adventure,  and  de 
sirous  of  learning  more  of  the  man  and  his  relation 
to  the  pursuit  of  my  friend,  I  gave  him  my  word ;  then 
crept  down  the  rockside,  and  went  home.  Not  that 
day  making  my  sermon,  nevertheless  I  found  a  new 
illustration  of  one  or  two  points  of  strong  doctrine. 


A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE.  179 


XVI. 
A   WALK   TO   NORMAN'S   WOE. 

NEXT  day,  unwilling  to  walk  with  a  man  who 
looked  so  much  like  myself,  I  put  on  a  disguise 
and  set  out  for  Old  Neck  beach.  I  had  finished 
my  morning's  writing ;  and  the  sun  was  well  up,  glowing 
with  a  good  heat.  An  almost  imperceptible  breath 
from  the  sea  tempered  the  air,  and  made  it  one  of  the 
most  delightful  of  early  October  days.  My  heart  was 
full  of  comfort ;  and  I  was  rather  glad  to  be  a  hundred 
miles  from  an  old  farmer,  who  used  to  afflict  my  child 
hood  with  the  assurance  that  every  particularly  fine  day 
was  a  "  weather  breeder."  Let  it  breed,  thought  I ;  I'll 
not  brood. 

WTalking  across  lots  from  the  railroad  station  under 
the  shade  trees  to  the  right  of  Sundown  Hill,  and  leap 
ing  a  minute  finger  of  the  sea,  I  climbed  over  the  top 
of  Thunderbolt  Ledge ;  marking  well  the  giant  foot 
prints  in  the  rock,  and  half  wondering  whether  I  might 
meet  man  or  demon  that  day  on  the  hill  tops.  As  I 
looked  out  upon  the  burnished  deep,  the  waves  were 
flashing  and  sparkling  far  toward  the  horizon;  and  I 
saw  the  spray  rising  wherever  the  water  touched  the 


l8o  A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S    WOE. 

rocks.  Pushing  down  through  the  singing  sands  into 
the  musical  waves,  I  took  my  bath ;  and  was  then  ready 
to  walk  with  friend  or  foe.  In  my  ignorance  of  human 
nature,  I  did  not  believe  that  a  man  who  filled  his 
pockets  with  New  Testaments  and  pistols  was  likely  to 
make  any  efficient  use  of  either. 

The  morning  light  seemed  to  have  touched  the 
heart  of  the  Englishman.  I  found  him  under  the 
young  walnuts,  which  —  keeping  open  doors  to  friendly 
breezes  from  the  sea  —  seek  shelter  from  the  northwest 
wind  under  the  lee  of  Image  Rock.  The  bald  cliff 
above  looked  under  the  genial  light  not  more  inviting 
than  did  the  detective's  face,  which  while  it  still  had 
stone  enough  in  it  had  bright  sunshine  on  it;  so  that  I 
thought  we  should  have  a  good  day.  It  was  clear  to 
me  as  the  morning  light  that  I  had  to  do  with  a  man  of 
unusual  capabilities,  who  had  seen  much  of  good 
society  and  too  much  bad.  He  was  the  perfect  gen 
tleman,  with  a  smack  of  the  vulgar  villain  about  him ; 
a  man  of  amazing  native  vigor,  made  a  little  fickle  and 
shaky  by  the  hard  hand  of  his  own  sins.  And  I  had 
already  seen  enough  of  him  to  know  that  his  soul  was 
like  the  deep  sea  in  its  responsiveness  to  storms  or 
sunshine. 

Our  course  led  past  Eagle  Head ;  and  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  take  my  half  wild  companion 
out  upon  the  knob.  I  led  him  far  down  the  sides  of 
this  precipitous  crag  to  a  place  upon  the  outside,  where 
the  waves  were  washing  into  an  unseen  cavern  and 
making  a  hollow  roar. 


A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE.  I.8l 

"  Here  is  the  spot,"  I  said,  "  where  my  friend,  whom 
you  are  chasing  round  the  world,  used  often  to  pray ; 
and  I  remember  that  he  once  spoke  of  praying  for  an 
old  man  in  London.  What  do  you  know  about  that?" 

"Your  friend,"  he  answered  with  curling  lip  and 
brightening  eye,  "is  a  thief.  You  ought  to  know  it. 
He  degenerated  during  his  trip  to  England,  and  devel 
oped  all  his  total  depravity." 

"Go  West,  and  find  him,  I  replied." 

We  walked  down  the  bold  shore  toward  Dana's  beach 
not  speaking  a  word.  When  we  paused  a  moment 
upon  the  roof  of  Sunset  Rock — the  low  crown  which 
rises  perhaps  half  way  between  the  two  beaches  —  my 
comrade  began  as  follows  :  — 

"Upon  one  dark  afternoon,  about  a  year  ago,  a  boy 
called  at  my  office  with  a  message,  the  flavor  of  which 
I  liked  exceedingly.  I  went  with  him  to  a  very  dingy 
counting  room,  where  I  found  an  old  man  sitting  by  a 
table,  upon  which  was  a  bag  of  gold,  and  a  little  por 
trait  on  a  lady's  toilet  box  painted  by  a  French  artist. 
At  his  motion  I  sat  down,  beside  him,  and  he  shoved 
along  the  picture  and  canvas  bag,  saying, — 

"'Find  this  man  —  a  Yankee;  gone  to  America  in  a 
sailing  vessel  \  robbed  me  of  a  jewel.' 

"I  asked  the  kind  of  jewelry  taken.  The  old  man 
arose,  opened  a  vault,  and  took  out  another  gold-bag. 

"'Find  this  man,'  he  said,  'and  I'll  get  the  jewel. 
Your  only  concern  is  the  man.' 

"And  then  he  pointed  into  the  vault  still  open, 
where  I  could  see  the  coin  bags  piled  high,  and  re 
peated, — 


1 82  A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S    WOE. 

"'Get  me  this  man.' 

"I  knew  at  once  what  he  meant;  for  I  had," — now 
the  officer  looked  up  with  sudden  fire  and  fierceness, 
with  strange  intensity  and  quickening  of  speech, — 
"what  you  ought  to  know,  not  only  a  reputation  for 
doing  what  I  set  out  to  do ;  but — " 

"  You  old  villain ! "  said  I  sharply.  "  Let  me  get  you 
off  the  sand  into  this  Brass  Kettle  here! " 

For  we  had  by  this  time  at  low  tide  walked  down 
Dana's  beach  to  the  Kettle  crevice,  which  opens  seven 
ty-five  feet  deep  into  the  iron  coast ;  a  narrow  orifice 
where  two  cannot  go  abreast,  and  where  the  breast  of  a 
fat  man  would  plug  the  path.  Lighted  from  above  by 
a  crack  in  the  ledge,  it  is  easy  enough  getting  along 
when  the  tide  is  out.  I  pointed  my  precious  rascal, — 
who  was,  however,  something  of  a  talker  unless  I  was 
mistaken  in  him, —  toward  the  ledge,  where  he  did  not 
seem  to  see  the  little  opening.  But  I  led  the  way,  say 
ing,  with  a  merry  laugh  which  took  the  frown  out  of  his 
eyebrows, — 

"  Come  in  here.  Good  men  and  true,  like  you  and 
me,  ought  to  hide  ourselves  in  caves  of  the  earth." 

So  in  we  went,  he  saying,  close  behind  me :  — 

"I  am  no  villian.  I  have  been  thought  to  be  un 
scrupulous;  but  I  never  did  what  I  have  often  been 
tempted  to  do,  and  perhaps  what  I  may  do  yet.  As  to 
your  friend,  as  you  call  him,  you  are  deceived.  He 
is  a  hardened  fellow.  As  soon  as  the  old  man  showed 
me  the  French  portrait,  I  recognized  an  American  face 
whose  likeness  I  had  seen  when  he  was  under  sentence 


A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE.  183 

for  a  diamond  robbery,  but  he  had  escaped.  By  find 
ing  him,  I  get  the  old  man's  prize,  and  one  from  the 
jeweller,  and  the  government  reward.  This  man  must 
be  found,  and  you  will  help,  or — " 

I  hastily  interrupted  him  when  he  came  to  "or," — 
for  he  had  grown  very  red  in  the  face.  "That  is  a 
boiling  hot  statement  for  such  a  cool  kettle  as  this. 
My  friend  is  all  right,  and  you  are  the  man  that  is 
deceived.  You  had  better  get  out  of  this,  and  reduce 
your  temper  by  walking  into  the  surf." 

"That  is  cool.  I'll  do  it,"  he  answered,  quietly 
moving  toward  the  mouth  of  this  freezing  kettle. 

The  tide  was  just  turning;  and  heavy  rollers  were 
coming  in  from  some  distant  storm.  After  plunging 
into  the  brine  and  pickling  ourselves,  we  were  soon  on 
our  way  again  down  the  shore.  The  sharp  shock  of 
an  ice  cold  wave  is  a  good  thing  for  dampening  an 
individual  whose  wrath  is  liable  to  flame.  It  would  be 
a  good  arena  for  all  disputants  on  warm  themes  to 
plant  them  bare  in  the  edge  of  curling  breakers. 

Under  the  tall  trees  of  the  open  but  uncombed 
grove,  we  walked  just  back  of  the  fisherman's  path  —  to 
the  Shark's  Mouth  rocks.  There  we  lay  down,  and 
looked  over  into  the  foaming  jaws.  Crossing  then  a 
short  beach  to  the  craggy  shores  of  Crow  Island  prom 
ontory,  we  waited  to  watch  the  waves  battering  the 
castle-like  shores.  Lunching  under  the  oaks  on  the 
neck  before  coming  to  Crescent  Beach,  we  then  saun 
tered  over  the  sands  and  mounted  the  heights  beyond. 
We  cracked  nuts  at  Cobble  Stone  beach,  where  the 


1 84  A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S    WOE. 

immeasurable  water  power  of  the  Atlantic  has  been 
hammering  stone  for  some  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
years ;  doing  fine  work,  in  rounding  the  rocks  till  they 
are  almost  perfect  in  shape,  by  knocking  them  together 
with  thundering  sound  in  time  of  storm.  The  detec 
tive  rolled  one  of  these  hard-boiled  eggs  of  the  sea 
up  to  the  bank :  and  I  have  my  foot  upon  it  now,  under 
my  study  table,  as  I  write.  Then  we  walked  by  the 
coast  line  path  toward  the  Flume.  All  this  time,  my 
strange  chum  was  telling  me  the  story  of  his  search 
for  my  friend. 

He  had  tracked  him  for  nearly  a  year;  to  the  Azores, 
Rio,  New  Orleans,  Boston,  and  now  to  Cape  Anne. 
In  cities  he  had  heard  of  him  hoodwinking  the  police  — 
as  the  detective  said  —  by  distributing  charities  to  the 
poor !  In  the  country  he  heard  of  him  leading  a  half 
wild  life,  as  if  he  were  "mad,  or  always  hiding ;  with  a 
strange  streak  of  devotion  about  him,  and  pretending 
to  some  grand  benevolent  work  to  which  he  had  given 
his  life !  But  often  the  detective's  suspicions  were  so 
confirmed  by  Cephas'  mingling  with  the  worst  of  men, 
by  uncouth  doings  and  sudden  movements,  that  the 
officer  felt  more  and  more  sure  that  my  friend  was  the 
identical  man  whom  he  was  seeking  for  a  double  crime. 
And  it  was  not  easy  to  shake  him  off  from  this  belief. 
"It  is  sure,"  he  said,  "as  the  ground  I  tread  on." 
Just  then  his  foot  slipped,  and  he  would  have  fallen 
into  the  yawning  chasm,  to  the  brink  of  which  I  had 
carefully  led  him  without  his  thinking  that  the  next 
step  was  upon  the  edge  of  destruction ;  but  I  had  kept 


A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S    WOE.  185 

a  quick  eye  and  firm  hand  ready,  and  I  planted  his 
feet  on  a  sure  rock.  A  fissure  three  hundred  feet  long, 
sixty  deep,  four  wide,  with  eight  boulders  beaded  along 
the  narrow  top, —  this  is  the  Flume.  The  walls  are 
precipitous  as  the  side  of  a  house.  It  is  where  a  vein 
of  trap  has  been  cut  out  by  the  chiseling  and  sawing  of 
the  sharp  sea  waves ;  and  the  high  tides  still  pour  into 
one  end  of  the  chasm. 

We  were  soon  among  the  round  stones  in  the  bottom 
of  the  Flume.  About  midway  we  paused,  looking  up 
to  the  ribbon  of  blue  sky ;  and  we  saw  that  one  of  the 
rocks  directly  over  us  appeared  ready  to  slip  from  its 
place.  But  I  pointed  downwards  saying : — 

"Here  is  a  rock  upon  which  your  jewel  robber  and  I 
have  covenanted  together;  and  here  we  have  prayed. 
I  now  aver  to  you  again  that  you  are  mistaken  in  sup 
posing  my  friend  your  robber.  Your  bungling  French 
portrait  deceived  you.  The  real  convicted  criminal  of 
the  diamond  robbery  has  been  arrested  in  Chicago.  I 
know  it,  and  can  prove  it.  I  can  satisfy  you  on  this 
point.  Probably  this  Chicago  fellow  is  the  man  you 
ought  to  find.  But  I  believe  that  you  are  hunting  my 
friend  upon  wholly  different  grounds.  And  if  you  are 
ready  to  do  it  without  more  evidence  than  you  have  of 
any  real  guilt,  then  —  you  are  not  a  good  man  and  true. 
I  believe,  however,  that  you  are  a  man  having  two 
natures,  a  pocket-pistol  nature,  and  a  New  Testament 
nature.  Kneel  with  me  on  this  rock,  and  turn  from  a 
course  you  know  to  be  wrong." 

I  looked  him  fixedly  in  the  eye  while  saying  this,  but 


1 86  A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE. 

his  eye  never  gave  way.     He  answered  with  an  oath, — 

«  Not ." 

Turning  to  walk  up  the  path,  we  were  soon  above 
ground.  It  is  too  cold  to  stay  long  in  this  deep  sea 
cellar.  When  I  saw  how  cool,  cold  and  determined  was 
my  companion,  I  almost  gave  him  over.  I  thought  the 
ocean  tonic  had  merely  made  his  worst  nature  rally. 
And  we  walked  on  almost  silently  toward  Norman's 
Woe.  We  paused,  however,  for  a  few  moments  in  the 
little  pine  grove  near  the  path ;  and  stretched  ourselves 
on  the  clean  carpet  of  pine  needles.  I  fell  to  thinking 
of  my  last  reading  of  the  Greek  Testament  there  with 
a  clerical  friend,  when  suddenly  my  hard  customer 
drew  out  his  pocket  Testament,  and,  with  an  expression 
almost  malignant  slowly  read  the  words  (Heb.  4:  15), 
—  "  Was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are" 

Measuring  his  words,  he  added  this  comment, — "  If 
Christ  had  such  thoughts  as  I  have,  he  was  a  fiend." 

"Without  sin!  Without  sin!  Read  again,"  said  I  — 
snatching  the  book  from  his  hand  and  pointing  to  the 
text  —  "Christ  was  tempted, but  did  not  sin  by  allowing 
temptation  to  lodge  in  his  mind  a  moment." 

The  detective's  lip  was  quivering.  Handing  the 
book  back  I  saw  a  name  on  the  fly  in  a  fine  hand,  and 
so,  changing  the  topic,  I  asked, — 

"Will  you  please  let  me  read  your  name  in  this 
book?" 

"Wherefore  is  it  that  thou  dost  ask  after  my  name 
(Gen.  32  :  29)  ?"  he  answered. 

He    arose,    and   we   walked    on    without    speaking 


A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE.  187 

till  we  stood  upon  the  edge  of  the  great  gash  cut  a 
hundred ,  feet  into  the  face  of  the  cliff  at  Norman's 
Woe.  He  sat  down,  hanging  his  feet  over  one  of  the 
worst  places  where  he  could  sit,  as  if  hoping  to  lose  his 
presence  of  mind  and  fall.  But  his  mind  did  not  for 
sake  him. 

"This  rock,"  said  I,  "is  witness  that  I  plead  with 
you  as  a  brother  to  turn  off  from  your  pursuit." 

He  whistled  a  few  notes  of  an  English  street  song, 
then  rose,  speaking  in  a  tone  of  contempt, — 

"Brother?  Pursuit?  I  will  follow  this  business  to 
the  bottom.  I  know  my  patron's  purpose,  and  mine. 
And  I  know  you.  If  it  were  not  for  your  profession  I 
would—" 

He  paused  suddenly,  drew  his  revolver,  and  flung  it 
into  the  sea.  Then  added, —  "I  believed  you  last  night 
that  my  game  had  gone  to  California,  but  this  morning 
I  learned  something  which  makes  me  think  him  near 
by ;  now  this  Chicago  lie  makes  me  sure  that  your  piety 
is  like  that  of  your  friend.  I  believe  you  are  playing 
false  with  me.  But  I  will  not  play  false  with  you.  As 
for  this  jewel-snatcher,  I'll  soon  have  him."  Then, 
completely  changing  his  tone,  and  laughing,  he  said, 
"  I  wish  I  had  my  pipe  and  broken  brandy  flask,  and  I 
.would  drink  and  smoke  to  his  health.  But  no  more  of 
this. — 

"Can  we  go  back  by  a  new  path?  I  hate  to  retrace 
any  steps  once  taken." 

We  returned  through  the  broad  grove  of  pines  by 
"  the  old  road  "  to  Kettle  Cove ;  and  then  I  made  him 


1 88  .     A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE. 

take  back  tracks,  across  the  Black  and  White  beaches 
and  through  the  woods,  up  shore.  Reaching  Image 
Hill  a  little  after  dark  we  lunched,  then  picked  up 
blanket  and  rifle  secreted  there  in  the  morning,  and  I 
went  with  him  across  the  musical  sands  to  Walnut 
Cove ;  but  he  did  not  care  to  camp  in  one  of  the  rare 
groves  which  mark  either  side  of  the  landing,  thinking 
the  place  too  near  houses.  So  we  hurried  past  Lobster 
Cove,  turning  to  the  left,  and  climbed  Gale's  Point. 
When  we  came  to  the  St.  Andrew's  pine,  its  wild  cross- 
like  shape  was  very  sharply  marked  against  the  moon 
now  rising  from  the  sea  a  little  past  its  full.  My  com 
panion  started  like  a  guilty  man  in  sight  of  the  Sav 
iour's  cross.  But  in  a  moment  he  broke  the  spell : — 

"  This  is  a  true  St.  Andrews.  If  I  were  to  become  a 
martyr,  I  should  choose  just  such  a  headland  as  this, 
looking  out  upon  the  moonlit  sea." 

Moving  across  the  pasture  to  the  Umbrella  Tree,  we 
kindled  a  little  fire.  I  then  bade  the  man  good  night, 
saying  that  I  would  bring  a  boat  in  the  morning,  and 
ferry  him  over  to  the  Newport  beach  to  take  the  Boston 
train ;  promising  also  to  ask  for  a  letter  which  I  had 
not  found  by  the  previous  mail.  I  left  him  toasting  his 
feet,  and  leaning  his  back  against  the  wall  of  rock 
on  the  south,  under  which  he  had  spread  his  blanket. 

But  I  could  not  go  home :  I  retired  to  a  nook  in  the 
rocks  and  began  to  pray.  Soon,  however,  I  heard  a 
sound  of  voices  which  quite  startled  me.  Rising  in 
the  darkness  to  peer  over  the  top  of  my  rocky  battle 
ment,  I  saw  the  Englishman  standing  by  the  fire  look- 


A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE,        .         189 

ing  at  his  hands;  and  then  he  uttered  a  half  wild 
cry,— 

"  My  hands  are  not  yet  red !  Not  yet ! " 

Then  he  spoke  softly,  as  if  to  a  woman  or  to  the 
angel  dead:  and  the  east  wind  bore  the  sound  to  my 
ears : — 

"Go  away  mother:  go  away.  Get  up  from  your 
knees.  You  need  not  pray  with  me.  I'll  pray." 

And  the  strong  man  kneeled  down  with  his  face 
toward  the  rock ;  but  I  could  make  out  only  the  closing 
words, — 

"    *        *        my  soul  to  take." 

In  a  moment  he  had  wrapped  himself  in  his  blanket 
and  was  still. 

I  hurried  home,  and — first  finding  a  letter  for  the 
foreigner — slept  soundly  three  or  four  hours;  then 
arose,  and  under  the  light  of  the  last  quarter  of  the 
moon  rowed  down  the  harbor,  so  as  to  give  the  stran 
ger  an  early  breakfast  and  help  him  off.  The  wind 
had  freshened,  and  the  sky  was  becoming  gray  with 
mist,  the  "sleepy  stars"  finding  it  hard  winking  with 
so  much  wet  on  their  eye  lashes.  The  brood  of  the 
weather  breeder  was  hatching.  By  the  sound  coming 
over  Gale's  Point,  the  sea  promised  to  breathe  hard 
that  day.  Ascending  the  headland  I  was  climbing  over 
the  wall  near  the  camp,  when  I  was  led  to  stop  before 
turning  the  corner  of  rock  which  concealed  the  sleeper, 
by  overhearing  his  troubled  dreams.  It  was  a  gentle, 
persuasive,  loving  voice : — 


190        •         A    WALK  TO  NORMAN'S   WOE. 

"Lie  down,  mother:  lie  down.  I  love  you;  but  I 
cannot  bear  to  have  you  praying  for  me  all  night.  You 
need  sleep." 

Then  in  a  moment  I  heard  a  quiet,  earnest  tone, — 

"Be  still,  be  still,  my  child." 

"  Do  you  say  be  still  ?     How  can  I  be  quiet  ? " 

And  then  he  slept  heavily.  I  went  away  to  the  top 
of  the  ridge  where  I  had  prayed  the  evening  before, 
again  to  pray  and  watch  for  the  dawning.  But  soon  I 
heard  a  voice  of  prayer  through  the  thickening  mist,  — 

"  Our  Father,  Our  Father."— 

—  An  earnest  cry,  which  I  believe  was  heard  in 
heaven.  Then  I  saw  the  flames  rise  ;  and  knowing  the 
man  to  be  ready  for  work  I  was  soon  at  his  side.  He 
seemed  a  little  surprised  at  my  early  arrival.  Eagerly 
snatching  the  letter,  he  tore  it  open,  saying, — 

"  I  had  a  good  sleep,  with  only  a  few  bad  dreams." 

The  letter  told  him  that  his  London  patron  was  dead. 
And  as  there  was  no  one  else  responsible  for  pushing 
his  errand,  he  at  once  said  that  he  would  ship  quickly 
as  possible  for  England. 

Going  to  Boston  with  him,  I  made  sure  that  he 
understood  from  proper  authorities  that  my  assertion 
as  to  the  arrest  of  the  true  robber  was  correct.  And 
when  he  waved  me  good-by  from  the  ship,  he  said, — 

"  I  begin  to  believe  that  you  and  your  friend  are 
all  right;  and  that  I  am  all  wrong." 


SANDY  POINT.  191 


XVII. 
SANDY  POINT. 

IT  WAS  only  a  few  days  after  the  foregoing  adven 
ture,  that  Cephas  returned  from  California, — 
broken  down  and  ready  for  a  change  of  work. 
His  wonder  at  the  incident  related  in  the  last  two  chap 
ters  was  scarcely  less  than  my  own.  It  was  evident 
that  the  Englishman  was  not  the  one  of  whom  Cephas 
had  been  particularly  warned ;  and  who  he  was,  could 
not  be  easily  determined.  Cephas  concluded  that  it 
must  be  one  with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact  when 
searching  for  his  brother ;  and  he  recollected  about  the 
man  for  whom  he  had  been  mistaken,  who  was  about 
his  weight  and  size  and  not  unlike  him  in  some  of  his 
features.  His  subsequent  correspondence  with  English 
friends  gave  him  no  clue  to  the  matter.  Once,  indeed, 
Cephas  said  that  Helen's  father  was  one  who  would 
not  hesitate  to  take  the  most  decided  measures  to  rid 
himself  of  any  person  who  had  ever  crossed  his  whims 
or  in  any  way  incurred  his  dislike.  Helen's  next 
letter  drove  this  notion  out  of  his  head  by  an  account 
of  her  father's  peaceful  death  bed,  and  his  unusual 
kindness  to  his  daughter,  and  warm  approval  of  her 


192  SANDY  POINT. 

friendships.    But  after  this,  Cephas  heard  nothing  more 
from  Helen  for  some  years. 

The  next  parochial  work  my  friend  undertook  was  in 
that  part  of  Nuntundale  known  as  Sandy  Point.  This 
is  an  island,  once  connected  with  the  main,  and  jutting 
'  out  from  it  like  an  arm  into  the  deep.  It  has  been  torn 
off  by  storms  and  the  washing  of  the  sea ;  and  a  deep 
frith  now  separates  it  from  the  solid  shore.  The  Point 
is  a  narrow  strip  of  sand,  with  forty  miles  bold  un 
broken  beach,  on  what  is  called  the  outside,  and  vari 
ous  little  harbors  on  the  side  nearest  the  mainland. 
Cephas  first  went  there  for  a  walk  on  the  long  beach. 
He  became  interested  in  the  people,  and  stayed 
several  months.  This  chapter  will  rehearse  Cephas' 
account  of  the  Six  Days  Excursion  which  introduced 
him  to  Sandy  Point. 

It  may  as  well  be  said  here  as  anywhere,  that  I  shall 
have  a  standing  quarrel  with  the  reader  who  does  not 
love  the  sound  of  the  sea,  and  love  it  so  much  as  to  be 
glad  of  any  excuse  to  walk  by  its  waves.  Lest,  how 
ever,  some  man  who  goes  through  books  on  the 
jump  —  leaping  forests  and  beaches  in  haste  to  get  at 
"  solid  matter  " —  should  find  himself  stuck  fast  in  the 
soft  sands  of  this  long  beach,  I  will  say  to  him 
frankly, — 

"  My  friend,  you  may.  as  well  stop  and  rest  a  week 
till  I  get  through  this  sand  strip." 

I  cannot  half  tell  this  story  of  Cephas,  without 
watching  him  in  hours  of  idleness,  as  he  saunters  by 


SANDY  POINT.  193 

the  seaside.  I  can  no  more  think  of  him  as  separated 
from  the  scenery  in  which  he  delighted  than  I  can 
now  see  his  portrait  upon  my  study  wall  without  be 
holding  also  the  frame  that  holds  it.  We  will  then 
read  his  own  story  in  his  own  words, —  his  experience  of 
Life  on  Sandy  Point. 

I  had  just  read  in  my  newspaper  of  an  eminent  theo 
logian  who,  as  it  was  said,  had  "gone  abroad  to  find 
the  absolute  rest  and  recreation  which  such  a  man  as 
he  could  hardly  find  in  this  country."  I  too  felt  the 
need  of  a  foreign  voyage,  and  such  a  man  as  I  went  to 
Sandy  Point, —  a  country  unknown  to  me  as  Labra 
dor,  Greenland  or  Norway.  By  pushing  out  far  into 
the  Atlantic,  I  thought  to  gain  the  tonic  of  a  sea  voy 
age  without  its  discomfort.  I  hoped  to  find,  in  pene 
trating  these  solitudes  of  sand,  the  absolute  loneliness 
of  a  desert  without  going  to  Arabia  or  Sahara.  Health 
is  roaming  over  these  sand  bluffs :  let  invalids  go  forth 
to  meet  him.  Sleep  is  to  be  found  in  these  fishermen's 
homes:  let  the  weary  and  sleepless  here  find  rest. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  Point  is  full  of  salt  and  the  in 
exhaustible  vigor  of  the  sea ;  by  it  the  nerves  may  be 
toned  to  new  life.  Dying  man,  rise  up  with  energy, 
and  you  will  find  new  years  in  wandering  over  Sandy 
Point.  The  immeasurable  powers  of  the  deep  will  be 
yours,  and  your  old  age  will  be  as  youthful  as  that  of 
the  hoary  sea. 

Going  ashore  from  the  fishing  smack  by  which  I 
crossed  over,  I  at  once  mounted  a  high  sand  hill,  which 
8 


194  SANDY  POINT. 

overlooks  the  north  end  of  the  island.  The  smooth 
harbor  and  its  crescent  shore,  the  steeples  on  land  and 
the  topmasts  at  sea,  the  Black  Fish  Light,  the  fort,  the 
distant  shores  of  the  main,  sand  under  foot,  and  the 
blue  ocean  everywhere, —  this  was  a  pleasant  introduc 
tion  of  a  Saturday  night  to  my  next  week's  walk. 

First  day.  I  began  my  tramp  Monday  morning  in  a 
fog;  first  following  a  trail  through  a  narrow  belt  of 
pigmy  woods,  stunted  and  tangled  oak  like  the  chappa- 
ral  on  the  low  hills  of  Mexico.  Then  I  plunged  about 
among  the  hills  of  sand,  a  trackless  desert,  without 
compass  and  in  thick  mist,  striving  hard  to  make  a 
straight  path.  Soon  I  heard  the  booming  of  the  sea, 
and  this  was  my  guide  through  the  wastes.  Climbing 
a  ridge,  thinly  covered  with  beach  grass,  I  came  sud 
denly  upon  the  high  bank  of  the  ocean ;  and  then  slid 
down  its  sliding  sands  to  the  waterside. 

I  walked  as  close  to  the  pounding  waves  as  I  could, 
sinking  my  feet  in  the  soft  sands.  When  I  was  weary, 
I  sat  to  rest  on  a  bit  of  joist  that  had  been  cast  ashore ; 
and  there  reflected  on  my  strange  situation.  Here  I 
have  entered  upon  an  unbroken  beach  of  two  score 
miles:  the  shore  is  bare  of  drift  wood  and  shells,  and 
almost  bare  of  sea  weed  and  pebbles ;  even  the  sand 
fleas  are  not  seen.  All  along  the  shore  is  a  bank,  low 
or  high,  shutting  out  of  view  the  desolate  sand  hills 
and  the  homes  of  seamen.  The  sea  is  wrapped  in  fog, 
lifting  or  drooping  to  show  a  little  more  or  a  little  less 
of  the  wide  waters.  The  waves  are  always  raising  their 


SANDY  POINT.  195 

white  crests  and  advancing  upon  the  shore,  then  falling 
and  retreating  dark  with  mingled  sand, —  advancing 
and  retreating  as  they  have  been  every  moment  for  un 
numbered  thousands  of  years,  during  day  and  night, 
summer  and  winter,  seedtime  and  harvest,  sometimes 
in  the  raging  excitement  of  a  storm,  but  never  without 
rising  and  rippling  where  the  tide  meets  the  land; 
sometimes  bearing  upon  these  shores  a  vessel  in  a  win 
ter  night,  drowning  the  crew  and  breaking  the  craft, 
but  almost  always  as  now  coming  upon  the  beach  un 
laden,  save  with  the  atmosphere  of  health  that  I  came 
here  to  breathe.  Let  me,  therefore,  rise  and  enter  upon 
what  seems  an  interminable  towpath  by  the  side  of  this 
narrow  strip  of  raging  waters. 

But  the  fog  is  lifting  and  I  see  that  other  coasters 
are  out  this  morning,  they  on  the  water  and  I  on  the 
land.  Now  I  have  found  my  solitude,  lonely  as  a  ship 
skirting  foreign  shores.  If  it  be  said  that  this  beach  be 
too  soft  for  good  walking,  I  answer  that  there  is  no 
better  diversion  to  a  man  whose  brain  is  weary,  than  to 
be  obliged  for  six  days  to  devote  his  mind  to  the  work 
of  continually  lifting  his  feet  out  of  the  sand.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  today  but  to  walk  along  this  beach. 
This  I  am  rather  compelled  to  do,  this 'or  nothing. 
On  the  one  side  is  the  incoming  tide,  on  the  other 
the  high  bank  not  very  easy  to  climb;  and  I  must 
trudge 

"  Along  the  shore  of  the  unfruitful  sea." 
It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  have  much  more  intel- 


196  SANDY  POINT. 

lectual  activity  than  the  big  clams,  which  live  in  the 
sands  under  my  feet.  I  have  found  the  very  perfec 
tion  of  idling,  and  do  not  envy  an  oyster  his  mental 
quietness.  Not  today  shall  I  go  mad  with  thinking. 

Second  day.  These  days  seem  to  me  of  wonderful 
length.  One  alone  is  in  itself  a  "season"  by  the  sea 
shore.  Yesterday  I  made  seven  miles  in  about  seven 
hours ;  and  the  experience  was  as  new  as  a  week  in 
Patagonia.  Then,  toward  sundown,  it  took  me  more 
than  two  hours  to  explore  a  bank  of  pudding  stone 
colored  by  iron.  This  morning  I  was  four  hours  in 
following  the  beach  less  than  three  miles.  In  about 
fifteen  busy  hours  on  this  shore,  I  have  made  only  ten 
miles,  two-thirds  of  a  mile  an  hour :  Sandy  Point  miles, 
doubtless,  unmeasured,  and  irresponsible  to  any  select 
men,  and  withal  liable  to  be  blown  away, —  so  that 
nobody  can  tell  how  far  I  have  walked ;  but  according 
to  Gunter  I  have  moved  like  a  snail.  I  shall  never  be 
able  to  make  the  first  twenty  miles  of  this  beach  in 
three  days.  This  rate  of  locomotion  would  be  too 
great  for  a  man,  who  came  hither  to  learn  moderation 
and  take  life  easy.  Forty  miles  in  six  days?  Why 
should  I  hurry  and  worry,  in  compelling  myself  to 
average  seven  miles  a  day? 

Having  turned  inland  for  an  hour,  exploring  among 
the  settlers  for  bread  and  milk  and  a  quiet  nooning, 
when  I  came  again  upon  the  water  side,  it  seemed 
more  new  than  ever;  as  the  waves  rolled  with  spark 
ling  life  and  white  crests  upon  the  long  beach,  and  the 
the  breeze  freshened  as  if  I  never  breathed  it  before. 


SANDY  POINT.  197 

"  Here,  where  the  sunny  waters  break, 
And  ripples  this  keen  breeze,  I  shake 
All  burdens  from  the  heart,  all  weary  thoughts  away." 

And  now  a  new  day  seems  to  be  opening;  four  or  five 
hours  by  the  unwearying  sea.  There  is  certainly  a 
great  joy  in  this  beach:  it  does  not  soon  come  to  an 
end;  and  it  is  not  haunted  by  any  other  swells  than 
those  that  come  in  from  the  sea.  I  love  to  go  to 
beaches  and  shores,  where  there  are  not  too  many  foot 
prints.  Thus  far,  I  have  found  no  other  foot  mark 
than  mine  between  the  water's  edge  and  the  bank ;  and 
only  one  boat,  in  a  hollow  beyond  reach  of  the  hungry 
waves.  The  surf  here,  even  in  quiet  weather,  curls  too 
high  for  putting  off  boats.  Mile  after  mile  I  am  alone : 
turning  one  headland  after  another,  a  new  vista  opens 
before  me  of  this  unending  solitary  walk  by  the  sea. 
This  coast  is  as  fresh  to  him  who  loves  to  be  alone,  as 
if  it  were  Selkirk's  Island.  And  the  ocean  here  is  as 
life-inspiring,  as  if  it  were  made  on  yesterday.  These 
sands  are  as  new  to  me  as  if  I  were  walking  on  a  beach 
in  one  of  the  past  geological  eras ;  indeed  Sandy  Point 
can  be  hardly  said  to  be  made  yet :  here  then  is  a  world 
in  its  making,  the  shifting  beach  and  shapeless  hills, 
which  are  constantly  changing  under  the  strong  winds. 
If  it  be  asked  how  I  spend  my  time  moving  along 
this  well  graded  sand  side-walk,  I  will  say, —  Very  inno 
cently  for  one  who  leaves  civilization,  that  he  may  stop 
thinking  and  quiet  his  nerves.  I  select  the  choicest 
pebbles  I  find,  and  look  for  those  that  have  been  per 
fected  in  form;  and  those  not  yet  finished,  I  throw 


198  SANDY  POINT. 

back  into  the  tide  that  they  may  be  rolled  up  and  down 
the  sands  for  another  century  or  two.  And  if  I  find  a 
living  sea-urchin  I  throw  him  as  far  as  possible  into  the 
sea  when  the  tide  is  going  out,  that  he  may  find  himself 
at  home  again.  Then  I  watch  for  little  fishes,  that  have 
come  so  near  the  shore  as  to  be  caught  in  a  strong 
wave,  and  thrown  far  up  the  sand.  I  at  once  take  up 
my  profession,  and  moralize  over  them;  wondering 
that  youth  should  be  borne  away  by  a  tide.  The  sand 
fleas  feast  on  these  unfortunate  youth. 

When  I  have  nothing  else  to  do,  I  go  marching  on ; 
and  this  is  a  great  diversion.  What  I  may  find  on  the 
unexplored  leagues  of  the  foaming  shore  I  know  not. 
Some  parts  of  this  beach  are  washed  clean  every  tide,  a 
current  carrying  away  all  drift,  leaving  not  a  chip  and 
scarcely  a  pebble  or  bit  of  sea-weed.  But  a  mile  fur 
ther  on  the  distance  is  wider  between  the  water  and 
the  great  sand  bank  which  everywhere  shuts  off  the 
view  inland,  and  the  trend  of  the  shore  gives  change  of 
current,  and  here  are  found  various  spoils  of  the  sea. 
Many  a  wreck  of  dragonfly  strews  this  beach,  with  all 
their  sails  still  shivering  in  the  breeze.  Fine  fingers  of 
sponge,  coarse  shells  of  horseshoe  ten  inches  in  diam 
eter,  sea-urchins  by  the  score,  star-fish  very  perfectly 
dried  on  the  warm  sand,  whited  skeletons  of  dogfish 
and  flounder,  whose  bodies  have  been  eaten  by  beetles 
and  their  bones  long  exposed  to  the  sun,  the  jaw  bone 
of  a  shark  with  a  fine  set  of  teeth, —  these  are  the  im 
portant  discoveries  which  while  away  the  hours. 

I  wish  I  knew  the  story  of  this  fragment  of  stout 


SANDY  POINT.  199 

coat  washed  in  by  the  last  tide,  and  a  little  further 
down  the  beach  another  fragment  of  the  same  cloth. 
So  much  good  cloth  no  patching  seaman  would  will 
ingly  throw  away;  and  I  wonder  whether  the  sharp 
teeth  which  rent  it,  found  flesh  within  the  coat.  And 
here  is  a  bottle  just  landed  from  an  ocean  voyage, 
corked  and  sealed ;  but  the  message  it  bears  is  in  a 
tongue  unknown  to  me,  and  I  must  wait  to  learn  its 
tale  of  woe.  [It  was  subsequently  found  to  be  a  Portu 
guese  love  letter,  corked  up  by  some  wild  young  fellow 
who  was  bound  on  a  long  voyage  with  little  prospect  of 
a  daily  mail.-  He  had  thrown  a  bottle  overboard  every 
day  for  two  weeks  after  embarking;  and  I  found  the 
fourteenth.  It  had  been  in  the  water  eight  months.] 

Third  day.  I  wonderfully  appreciate  the  freedom  of 
these  three  days  solitary  rambling  over  a  few  miles  of 
lonely  shore.  I  have  absolutely  nothing  to  do,  but  to 
sit  on  any  stray  barrel  or  bit  of  wreck  or  upon  the  edge 
of  the  high  bank,  facing  the  sea  and  breathing  in  salt 
air.  I  have  no  more  care  than  a  well  fed  sea-bird.  I 
am  as  free  from  all  intellectual  anxiety  as  a  sandpiper. 
No  business  can  harrass  me  now.  In  the  bright  sun 
shine  and  by  the  bracing  sea,  I  forget  all  heavy  labors. 
And  I  enter  the  dashing  waves  freely  as  a  South  Sea 
islander. 

It  is  my  peculiar  delight  to  examine  the  breaches  in 
the  wall  of  sand ;  which  stays  the  waves  from  tearing 
up  the  country  inland,  fencing  out  the  deep.  These 
hills  are  anchored  by  cable  strands  of  beach  grass. 


200  SANDY  POINT. 

The  winter  winds  fill  with  sand  the  spaces  between 
the  grass  spires  which  grew  the  previous  summer. 
Next  summer  the  grasses  will  grow  higher  from  the 
same  roots ;  and  next  winter  will  hide  the  summer's 
growth,  So  grow  the  sand  dunes.  This  beach  grass  is 
essentially  a  military  plant,  fortifying  the  sand  hills. 
It  sends  out  runners  like  a  vine :  the  leaders  make  off 
from  the  parent  root  in  straight  lines ;  all  along  these 
leading  lines  new  spires  of  grass  rise  like  the  spears  of 
soldiers.  Kill  these  grass  roots;  and,  between  wind 
and  tide,  a  few  storms  would  shift  the  boundaries  of 
land  and  ocean. 

The  waves,  in  time  of  storm,  work  on  the  sand 
banks  like  excavators;  digging  to  no  inconsiderable 
depth  for  many  leagues  in  length.  Shoals  and  fingers 
of  sand  are  formed,  which  are  moved  off  by  strong  cur 
rents  along  the  shore  in  the  next  storm.  A  vast 
amount  of  sand  is  in  this  way  carried  round  into  the 
"  inside  "  of  the  island.  Here  it  is  heaped  upon  rocky 
foundations,  and  made  into  breakwaters  to  protect 
harbors.  But  these  miniature  "sandy  points"  are 
moving  back  and  forth,  according  to  the  play  of  the 
elements :  the  sea  shovels  up  the  sand  on  one  side,  and 
the  wind  casts  it  over  the  point,  and  dumps  it  upon  the 
other  side. 

Toward  night,  I  found  myself  on  top  of  one  of  these 
ramparts  of  sand.  And  while  sitting  there,  I  thought 
what  a  capital  place  this  would  be  to  be  buried  in.  I 
have  always  wanted  to  be  cast  into  the  ocean ;  but  it 
will  be  expensive  to  charter  a  whale  ship  or  ocean 


SANDY  POINT.  201 

steamer  to  take  my  body  to  sea,  and  I  would  like  just 
such  a  bluff  as  this  for  my  grave.  It  would  not  be  my 
last  resting-place.  My  dust  would  blow  off  into  the 
deep,  and  then  roll  up  and  down  this  long  beach  age 
after  age.  No  officious  and  blundering  sexton  would 
be  clipping  every  tree  that  happened  to  grow  near  my 
head;  and  stupids  would  not  be  bending  over  an  old 
stone  trying  to  decipher  my  name.  Who  knows  how 
it  will  be  spelled  when  I  am  forgotten,  and  some  benev 
olent  gentleman  plays  the  part  of  Old  Mortality,  and 
seeks  to  restore  the  head-stones  of  the  obscure  country 
graveyard  where  my  bones  must  moulder,  if  I  cannot 
get  them  into  the  sea.* 

*  NOTE. —  If  there  was  any  one  thing  that  Cephas  felt  bothered 
about  it  was  the  question  what  to  do  with  his  body  after  he  had 
done  with  it-  His  inveterate  habits  of  walking  led  him  to  object 
pretty  decidedly  to  the  stinted  accommodations  of  our  country 
graveyards.  I  find  this  topic  alluded  to  in  a  letter  written  from 
Stone  Cove :  "  My  body  will  be  loath  to  lie  easy  through  many 
years  in  a  common  grave.  My  legs  will  long  just  to  walk  over  the 
top  of  a  hill,  and  lie  down  in  some  other  valley  for  a  year  or  two ; 
and  then  tramp  on  again  to  some  woodside  or  brookside  where  the 
weary  rest.  I  am  stoutly  opposed  to  putting  my  bones  into  a  quiet 
cemetery.  If  I  could  have  my  way,  I  would  be  buried  in  the 
deep, —  not  that  I  might  rest  in  a  soft  white  bed  of  tiny  shells  in 
the  still  bottom  of  the  sea ;  but  I  would  have  my  flesh  give  new 
vigor  to  the  sharks,  so  that  my  frame  could  lustily  cut  the  waves 
in  the  shape  of  fish  muscle.  Denied  this,  I  would,  if  I  could,  be 
imprisoned  in  the  viewless  winds  that  sweep  land  and  sea.  Or,  if 
I  must  leave  my  clay  in  one  place,  let  it  be  on  a  little  island,  where 
the  waves  are  always  washing,  and  where  the  sea-birds  are  scream 
ing,  and  the  storms  are  pounding,  and  the  salt  foam  is  flying 


202  SANDY  POINT. 

These  delightful  thoughts  detained  me  upon  the 
bluff  till  the  full  moon  rose  out  of  the  deep.  Close  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  upon  the  north  side  within  the  hol 
low,  were  two  deserted  dwellings,  and  one  of  the  shel 
ters  built  by  the  Humane  Society.  Looking  down 
shore,  I  saw  a  distant  light  upon  the  beach  bank.  I 
sat  there  till  I  shivered,  and  then  went  to  the  Humane 
House  thinking  that,  in  spite  of  all  law  to  the  contrary, 
I  needed  its  warm  shelter  as  much  as  any  unfortunate 
seaman  ever  would ;  though  I  took  care  next  day  to 
send  the  light-keeper  who  had  charge  of  the  house, 
three  miles,  to  make  good  the  candles  and  wood  I 
used,  so  that  no  poor  fellow  should  walk  up  dripping 
from  a  wreck  to  find  the  house  without  fuel.  But  I 
found  it  difficult  to  go  to  sleep  early  that  night  in  my 
new  character  of  wrecked  mariner.  I  persisted  in 
going  often  to  the  door  and  looking  out  upon  the  sea. 
And  certain  lines  kept  running  in  my  head : — 


through  the  air.  I  could  imagine  that  my  body  would  be  reason 
ably  still,  for  a  little  while,  with  such  surroundings.  I  feel  very 
sure  that  when  my  clay  becomes  incapable  of  motion  in  its  proper 
shape,  I  shall,  as  a  spirit,  make  it  one  of  the  first  things  I  aim  for, 
to  go  and  stir  up  the  dissolving  elements  and  get  the  matter  to 
moving  as  soon  as  possible,  gas  to  gas  and  dust  to  dust :  I  will  not 
be  quiet  till  I  get  my  body  on  its  legs  again,  working  through  the 
soil  or  marching  off  on  the  winds.  I  have  an  insatiable  passion  for 
being  on  the  move  ;  and  when  I  once  learn  the  style  of  traveling, 
which  obtains  in  the  unseen,  I  shall  begin  my  journeys  again." 

It  affords  me  unfeigned  pleasure  to  state  that  a  benevolent  and 
genial  Deacon  —  a  large  owner  of  sand  —  gave  Cephas  a  house  lot 
on  the  bluff  mentioned  in  the  text,  in  order  that  his  pastor  might 
be  buried  to  his  mind  whenever  he  should  wish. 


SANDY  POINT.  203 

"  O  lonely  moon,  a  lonely  place 
Is  this  thou  cheerest  with  thy  face  ; 
Three  sand-side  houses,  and  afar 
The  steady  beacon's  faithful  star  !  " 

Fourth  day.  There  is  no  more  reason  why  I  should 
climb  every  light  house  on  the  coast  than  why  I  should 
climb  every  lamp-post  in  Boston.  But  the  light  keeper, 
whom  I  found  soon  after  daybreak,  told  me  that  I  was 
the  only  stranger  he  ever  saw,  who  did  not  make  him 
go  up  stairs  to  show  his  lantern.  I  wandered  most  of 
the  d^y  among  the  farm  houses.  These  homes  half  a 
mile  or  more  from  the  beach  bank  are  wonderfully 
homelike ;  surrounded  by  sand  hills  which  are  covered 
with  a  thin  soil  and  green  grass.  The  uplands  are 
never  opened  with  the  plough,  lest  the  wind  whisk  away 
the  farm.  Crops  grow  in  the  valleys.  The  telegraph 
poles  are  ridiculously  low,  and  so  are  the  rail  fences, 
and  the  thrifty  apple  trees.  I  could  easily  step  over 
the  fences,  and  take  off  the  topmost  apples  without 
rising  on  tiptoe.  It  is  needful,  that  the  orchards  carry 
no  top-sails ;  and  that  they  stand  close-reefed, —  lest 
the  storms  pluck  them  up  by  the  roots  and  plant  them 
in  the  sea.  The  houses  are  connected  by  green  or 
sandy  lanes  with  the  great  highway,  which  runs  the 
whole  length  of  this  narrow  island.  The  people  are 
very  kind.  Taking  not  two  meals  in  any  one  house,  I 
discovered  many  friends.  Where  I  found  cream  on  the 
table,  I  knew  that  they  did  not  sell  their  hospitality. 
The  skim-milk  people  had  a  price. 

Toward  nightfall,  I  found  myself  in  a  little  neighbor- 


204  SANDY  POINT. 

hood  with. several  herring  ponds  in  the  vicinity.  These 
ponds  are  mainly  useful  in  keeping  up  the  supply  of 
mosquitos.  Enough  are  raised  here  within  a  few  acres 
to  stock  the  island  as  far  as  they  can  fly.  Knowing 
that  the  season  was  not  quite  over,  I  picked  out  a 
house  with  green  blinds ;  and  thought  I  would  apply 
there  for  lodging,  hoping  that  the  window  shields  would 
defend  me  in  the  hours  of  slumber.  The  man  of 
the  house,  at  work  in  his  garden,  gave  me  a  hearty 
welcome.  I  spent  a  delightful  evening,  chatting  with 
the  pleasant  family.  But  I  was  tucked  into  a,  back 
attic  to  sleep,  where  I  ran  my  head  into  the  cobwebs 
in  the  night ;  and  the  one  window  had  no  blind.  All 
the  mosquitos  from  five  herring  ponds  gave  a  free  con 
cert  in  my  chamber;  and  opened  a  free  market  for 
supplying  themselves  with  raw  meat  at  my  expense. 
I  was  completely  demoralized. 

Fifth  day.  This  morning,  before  parting  with  the 
good  people  of  the  house,  my  hostess  confessed  that 
when  she  came  home  last  evening,  and  found  that  her 
husband  had  given  me  lodging,  she  was  considerably 
alarmed.  She  had  read  about  men,  who  roamed  up 
and  down  the  earth  to  rob  homes  and  murder  the  inno 
cent.  She  could  not  find  out  that  I  lived  anywhere.  I 
had  been  a  wanderer  in  distant  and  uncouth  parts  of 
the  world.  I  was  walking  down  the  "back-side"  of 
the  island,  where  nobody  ever  walked  who  was  sane 
and  holy.  Her  husband  had  money  in  the  house.  She 
had  worried  about  it  many  a  night.  And  when  she  saw 


SANDY  POINT.  205 

me  with  my  wicked  beard,  a  'homeless  straggler  in  un 
canny  places,  she  felt  satisfied  that  I  was  the  man  des 
tined  to  figure  in  the  annals  of  crime,  as  having  mur 
dered  a  household  at  the  Herring  Ponds  for  the  sake 
of  an  old  stocking  half  full  of  coin.  But  the  good 
woman  thought  better  of  it,  she  said,  when  I  took  out 
my  pocket  Testament  and  suggested  having  devotions 
with  the  family  before  I  retired.  She  had,  however, 
made  her  arrangements  to  feed  me  out  to  the  mos- 
quitos  before  morning ;  and  she  could  not  in  a  moment 
make  up  her  mind  to  disappoint  her  tuneful  neighbors, 
or  to  disturb  her  nice  spare  bed. 

Mem: — Wear  clerical  clothes,  use  razor  and  shears, 
walk  in  the  roads  where  common  people  do,  and  sleep 
in  the  guest  chamber.  By  so  doing,  life  will  be  tame 
and  comfortable,  and  the  blood  of  a  highwayman  will 
never  be  sucked  out  of  your  veins  by  fiends  of  the  air 
invoked  to  defend  the  helpless. 

These  herring  ponds  are  very  beautiful  in  the  morn 
ing  light.  Many  of  the  low  hills,  which  encircle  them, 
are  clad  with  pines,  perhaps  twenty  feet  high.  The 
woods  are  clear  of  undergrowth.  A  long  walk  through 
the  timber  discovers  oaks  draped  with  hanging  mosses. 
Sometimes  the  trunks  and  limbs  of  dark  pines  are 
almost  completely  covered  with  white  tufts  of  moss. 
The  most  diminutive  trees  thus  appear  hoary  with  age. 
The  winding  way  I  follow  leads  now  and  then  over  a 
hill  top,  where  the  view  is  very  extensive.  The  country 
is  well  wooded,  oak  and  pine,  with  vast  tracts  of  beech 
on  the  shore  —  the  leafless  sand  beach. 


206  OLD  HARBOR. 


XVIII. 
OLD  HARBOR. 

SIXTH  DAY.  I  find  many  of  the  traveled  roads 
here  as  weary  walking  as  the  soft  beach;  and 
inland  I  march  without  the  music  of  the  waves. 
An  invigorating  sea  breeze,  however,  tempers  the  air, 
and  it  is  a  delight  to  live.  When  the  stage  overtook 
me  this  morning,  I  climbed  to  a  seat  beside  the  driver 
and  an  old  man-of-war's  man. 

"Where  have  you  been  cruising  this  week?"  asked 
Jack. 

"Where  are  you  bound?"  asked  Jehu. 

These  questions  being  answered,  I  began  to  look, 
and  to  question.  Jack  wore  the  navy  suit ;  and  every 
wrinkle  and  every  motion  spoke  of  the  sea.  He  had 
rocked  on  the  waves  from  early  childhood.  His  home 
was  lonesome.  His  companions  were  in  ships.  On 
his  last  voyage  homeward  bound  he  sighted  his  brother 
upon  an  outward  bound  Australian  clipper  in  the  South 
Atlantic.  As  the  commanders  exchanged  a  word  with 
trumpets,  the  brothers  waved  their  tarpaulins  to  each 
other;  and  they  would  not  now  meet  again  for  years, 
as  they  had  not  met  before  for  many  a  year.  The 


OLD  HARBOR.  207 

driver  persisted  that  the  water  was  "too  wet"  for  him 
to  go  to  sea;  but  the  old  salt  hoped  to  die  on  the 
waves  as  his  father  and  grandfather  had  died  on  ship 
board  and  been  buried  in  the  deep.  Within  an  hour, 
Jack  asked  Jehu  to  anchor  in  front  of  a  minute  white 
cottage.  Straightway  two  stout  young  women  came 
out,  and  greeted  their  father.  Their  mother  had  died 
two  months  since ;  their  husbands  were  both  at  sea. 

I  was  left  alone  with  the  driver.  He  proved  quaint 
enough,  with  an  unlimited  capacity  for  spinning  sailor- 
yarn;  though  many  of  the  yarns  he  unreeled  for  me 
were  too  rotten  to  hold  together  and  I  lost  confidence 
in  him.  His  horses,  he  said,  ate  and  drank  from  the 
trough  of  the  sea ;  this  accounted  for  the  peculiar  gait 
of  the  off  leader,  and  the  occasional  swaggering  steps 
of  the  nigh  wheel  horse.  They  have  their  sea  legs  on. 
Once  Jehu  drove, —  as  he  said, —  rather  a  stylish  hack 
in  the  metropolis  of  Sandy  Point;  and  a  smart  seaman, 
not  bred  in  these  parts,  came  off  from  the  ship  to  take 
a  day's  ride  in  the  country.  The  close  carriage  was 
chartered.  The  sailor  mounted  the  box  with  the  driv 
er.  As  they  were  starting,  a  man  came  along  who 
wanted  to  go  up  into  the  country,  and  offered  to  pay 
half  the  cost  if  he  could  be  taken  on  board. 

"If  you  will  ride  in  the  hold,"  said  the  sailor,  "you 
can  go  for  nothing;  but  you  can't  come  on  deck." 

The  stranger  stowed  himself  in  the  hold ;  and  Jack 
was  master  of  the  quarter  deck. 

I  found  a  never  ceasing  interest  in  the  homes  we 
passed.  Little  hamlets  on  the  "inside"  of  the  island, 


208  OLD   HARBOR. 

where  most  of  the  people  lived,  have  for  front  yards 
mere  patches  of  beach  fenced  in, —  sand  and  beach 
grass  and  sea  shells.  It  was  not  uncommon  to  find 
gardens  fenced  in  by  fish  seines:  this  twine  fence  is 
taken  under  cover  in  winter,  is  easily  fastened  to  the 
posts,  is  hen-proof,  and  hog-proof,  and  will  last  for  so 
many  years  that  it  is  called  cheaper  than  lumber. 
The  planks  leading  to  the  front  doors  are  often  from 
some  old  wreck.  Heaps  of  clam  shells  about  the  back 
door,  show  that  the  "treasures  hid  in  the  sand"  do 
much  toward  sustaining  the  population.  "  All  seas  are 
our  cellars,"  said  Martin  Luther.  The  Sandy  Point 
people  drop  a  line  into  their  cellars,  and  then  "  suck  of 
the  abundance  of  the  seas."  I  did  not  see  big  barns 
and  mowing  machines  and  patent  reapers ;  but  har 
poon,  hook,  line,  bob  and  sinker,  trawl,  seine,  lobster 
nets  and  clam  forks, —  all  manner  of  gear  for  gathering 
the  harvests  of  the  deep.  Accustomed  as  the  people 
are  to  the  sight  of  wrecks,  they  seem  sometimes  a  little 
hard  in  the  uses  they  make  of  these  relics  of  the  unfor 
tunate.  I  saw  the  steel  ribs  of  eight  ironclads  flying  in 
the  air  for  scarecrows  in  one  corn  field ;  skirt  hoops  in 
which  the  belles  of  Sakum  Hollow  had  once  coasted  up 
and  down  the  Point.  What  has  become  of  the  fair 
crew  which  once  manned  this  formidable  fleet  ? 

The  weather  is  threatening  this  afternoon,  and  the 
driver  is  very  anxious  I  should  see  a  regular  north 
easter.  If  I  were  to  believe  his  words,  I  should  see 
the  very  pigs,  lean  and  lank,  take  shingles  in  their 
mouths,  and  beat  up  against  the  wind  to  gain  new  shel- 


OLD  HARBOR.  209 

ter,  when  a  storm  tears  down  some  frail  piggery  and 
then  sweeps  through  the  narrow  streets  of  the  Old 
Harbor  like  mad.  We  arrived  in  the  suburbs  of  Old 
Harbor  at  about  dark ;  and  made  our  first  stop  oppo 
site  a  variety  store,  where  the  sign  board  contained,  as 
well  as  I  could  hastily  count,  eighty  specifications  of 
groceries  and  ware  for  sale : — 

"  Shoepegs  Bait,  Soaps,  calicos.  Putty,  ribbons,  axes, 
figs.  Perrfumes,  castor  Oil  and  tobacco.  Snuff,  bolony 
sassages,  haM.  onions,  Peanuts,  nails, —  and  fish  — 
Hooks,  salt,  pickles ;  Sugar :  Beens ;  tre  nails.  Anchors. 
RaSuns  Hoans.  Tee,  coffee  cheese.  butTer,  Sailors' 
stores.  Boat  Hooks,  Overhauls,  fishin  Boots,  glass  wair, 
fethers,  mustard,  glass  bottels,  pils." — and  forty-one 
more  things ! 

I  applied  for  lodging  at  the  house  over  the  way, 
being  told  it  was  a  home  for  travelers.  The  landlord 
was  an  honest  old  salt,  who  took  as  much  pride  in  his 
house  as  if  it  had  been  a  ship's  cabin.  But  his  heart 
was  always  at  sea,  and  his  words  would  never  get  used 
to  the  land.  He  spoke  of  his  guests  as  making  a 
voyage  with  him ;  and  said  he  had  as  many  passengers 
on  board  as  he  had  berths  for.  He  described  to  me  a 
house  a  little  further  on,  where  an  aged  ship  master 
would  entertain  me;  going  with  me  to  the  door-step, 
and  looking  down  the  street,  he  made  a  motion  with 
his  hand,  as  if  he  was  throwing  bait  overboard,  and 
said, — 

"  Go  to  the  starboard,  and  take  to  the  seaboard,  and 
you'll  fetch  it." 


210  OLD  HARBOR. 

I  found  my  host  wifeless  and  childless,  with  a 
niece  for  his  housekeeper.  As  the  night  set  in,  the 
wind  increased,  and  thick  clouds  made  the  darkness 
very  dense.  The  sound  of  the  rising  gale  made  the  old 
man  uneasy ;  and  as  its  violence  increased,  the  drowsi 
ness  with  which  he  began  the  evening  gave  place  to 
wakeful  watching ;  he  would  go  often  to  the  windows, 
next  the  sea,  look  and  listen,  and  then  walk  the 
floor,  then  be  seated  and  lean  back  against  the  wall, 
then  rise  and  walk  again  to  the  window,  then  again 
move  slowly  around  the  room.  Seeing  that  I  was  not 
likely  to  make  him  sleepless  by  any  talk  of  mine,  I 
began  after  a  time  to  draw  him  out. 

"I  love,"  said  I,  "to  hear  the  wind  roar  on  dark 
nights,  when  it  shakes  the  houses  and  stirs  up  the  sea." 

"  I  have  heard  gales  and  hurricanes  enough  in  my 
day,"  he  answered. 

Little  by  little,  he  forgot  the  high  wind  raging  out 
side,  in  living  over  again  the  storms  of  earlier  years. 
On  his  cruise  as  master,  a  heavy  blow  found  him  close 
to  the  Florida  coast  in  the  night.  It  was  pitch  dark, 
and  he  was  almost  on  the  reefs ;  when  a  flash  of  light 
ning  showed  him  a  very  narrow  opening  in  the  reef  just 
before  him,  into  which  he  dashed,  and  in  a  moment 
was  in  quiet  water.  He  had  pitched  about  in  the 
region  of  Cape  Horn,  in  waves  running  so  high  that 
when  he  was  standing  on  the  quarter-deck  and  the 
bow  was  diving  into  the  hollow  of  the  sea,  he  could  see 
the  crest  of  the  next  wave  by  looking  over  the  top  of 
.the  foreyard.  A  ship  only  a  little  distance  from  him 


OLD  HARBOR.  211 

could  not  be  seen,  as  they  sank  into  the  depths  and 
the  mountain  billows  rose  between  them.  He  lay  in  a 
storm  twenty-four  hours  with  his  vessel  half  thrown 
upon  her  beam-ends,  weighted  down  by  the  water  on 
one  side  the  clipper's  deck, —  the  masts  presenting  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

The  captain  thought  he  became  a  Christian,  upon 
one  night,  when  he  was  wrecked  on  a  little  island  near 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  in  dead  of  winter.  He  was 
washed  up  and  down  the  rocks  three  or  four  times  by 
the  waves,  like  clothes  on  a  scrubbing-board.  In  this 
moment  all  the  deeds  of  his  life  flashed  before  him, 
and  he  then  yielded  his  heart  to  God,  standing  by  his 
resolution  in  after  years.  When  thrown  high  up  from 
the  sea,  he  had  just  sense  enough  left  to  crawl  away 
from  the  water.  Several  of  the  crew  were  washed  upon 
the  rocks  and  escaped  alive. 

They  found  four  feet  of  snow  on  shore.  Crawling 
into  a  barn  they  tried  to  warm  themselves  in  the  hay. 
The  mate  went  to  search  for  a  house;  and  seeing  a 
light  they  all  made  for  it.  The  lone  woman  in  the  hut 
was  loath  to  let  them  in ;  but  such  hospitality  as  she 
had  she  gave, —  a  scanty  fire,  and  hemlock  tea,  and 
dried  herring.  At  daybreak  a  party  of  wreckers  came 
in,  and  demanded  that  the  captain  give  them  all  the 
spoils  of  the  ship,  as  the  price  of  any  assistance  from 
them.  This  he  refused  ;  they  went  to  the  shore  ;  and 
so  completely  was  the  ship  stove  on  the  rocks,  that  no 
fragment  of  the  wreck  was  found  more  than  six  feet 
long.  One  shovel  had  been  thrown  high  on  the  rocks ; 


212  OLD  HARBOR. 

and  with  it  the  crew  buried  two  bodies  of  their  com 
panions  :  then  the  tool  was  stolen  by  one  of  the  wreck 
ers.  They  found  six  pounds  of  salt  beef;  and  this  was 
also  stolen.  A  piece  of  sail  large  enough  for  a  pair  of 
overalls  for  each  seaman  was  all  that  was  saved. 

The  wreckers  looked  hard  upon  these  men  snatched 
from  the  sea;  but  one  fellow,  whose  eye  had  some 
kindness  still  lingering  in  it,  persuaded  his  comrades  to 
give  quarters  to  the  wrecked  mariners:  and  two  and 
two  were  parcelled  out  to  different  homes,  till  the 
weather  should  allow  setting  them  over  to  another 
island  in  the  common  track  of  shipping.  The  storm 
raged  for  two  weeks.  Hemlock  tea  and  dried  herring 
was  all  that  could  be  obtained  on  the  island.  One 
woman  had  a  pound  of  sea-biscuit,  which  she  had 
stored  up  against  a  time  of  great  distress,  but  only  one 
taste  of  this  bread  did  the  captain  get  by  special  bounty. 
After  knocking  about  from  one  island  to  another,  the 
crew  at  last  reached  home.  But  on  the  home  passage, 
two  ships  sailed  in  company :  and  in  the  hour  of  storm 
our  captain  persuaded  him  with  whom  he  sailed,  to  take 
a  certain  course,  diverging  from  that  of  the  other 
vessel;  and  though  they  reached  port  in  safety,  their 
companion  was  never  again  heard  from.  The  very 
morning  of  the  day  the  captain  reached  home,  his  wife 
heard  of  the  wreck ;  at  noon  she  received  a  letter  an 
nouncing  his  safety ;  and  before  night,  he  approached 
the  window  where  she  sat  reading  the  letter. 

Such  experiences  made  the  old  man  sick  at  heart, 
when  he  heard  the  roar  of  the  ocean  in  the  hour  of 


OLD  HARBOR.  213 

tempest.  So,  too,  the  widows  of  shipwrecked  mariners 
do  not  love  the  sight  or  the  sound  of  the  sea.  Old 
Harbor  had  suffered  severely  the  former  winter  by  the 
sweeping  off  of  fishing  vessels  by  the  score.  Six  mem 
bers  of  one  family  were  lost  in  one  gale.  The  crash  of 
wrecks  is  a  sound  familiar.  Every  year  or  two,  some 
heavily  laden  ship  is  broken  up  on  the  backside  of  the 
Point,  and  sometimes  three  or  four  score  bodies  are 
found  on  the  beach  after  a  storm. 

When  I  retired  to  my  chamber  that  night,  a  rough 
room  unplastered,  1  found  pasted  upon  the  window 
casing  these  lines,  cut  from  a  newspaper,  an  extract 
from  a  book  of  poems. —  Upon  the  smooth  casing 
above  was  written,  with  a  pencil,  in  a  trembling  hand 
this  heading, — 

"A   CHILDLESS   OLD   MAN    BY  THE   SIDE  OF  THE   SEA." 

"  There  was  a  poor  old  man 
Who  sat  and  listened  to  the  raging  sea, 
And  heard  it  thunder,  lunging  at  the  cliffs 
As  like  to  tear  them  down.     He  lay  at  night, 
And, — '  Lord  have  mercy  on  the  lads  ! '  said  he, 
'  That  sailed  at  noon,  though  they  be  none  of  mine ; 
For  when  the  gale  gets  up,  and  when  the  wind 
Flings  at  the  window,  when  it  beats  the  roof, 
And  lulls  and  stops,  and  rouses  up  again, 
And  cuts  the  crest  clean  off  the  plunging  wave, 
And  scatters  it  like  feathers  up  the  fields, — 
Why  then  I  think  of  my  two  lads  ;  my  lads 
That  would  have  worked  and  never  let  me  want, 
And  never  let  me  take  the  parish  pay. 


214  OLD  HARBOR. 

No,  none  of  mine  ;  my  lads  were  drowned  at  sea, 

My  two  —  before  the  most  of  these  were  born. 

I  know  how  sharp  that  cuts,  since  my  poor  wife 

Walked  up  and  down,  and  still  walked  up  and  down, 

And  I  walked  after ;  and  one  could  not  hear 

A  word  the  other  said,  for  wind  and  sea, 

That  raged  and  beat  and  thundered  in  the  night, — 

The  awfulest,  the  longest,  lightest  night 

That  ever  parents  had  to  spend  —  a  moon 

That  shone  like  daylight  on  the  breaking  wave. 

Ah  me  !  and  other  men  have  lost  their  lads, 

And  other  women  wiped  their  poor  dead  mouths. 

"  '  Ay,  I  was  strong 

And  able-bodied  —  loved  my  work  ;  but  now 
I  am  a  useless  hull ;  't  is  time  I  sunk ; 
I  am  in  all  men's  way ;  I  trouble  them ; 
I  am  a  trouble  to  myself:  but  yet 
I  feel  for  mariners  of  stormy  nights, 
And  feel  for  wives  that  watch  ashore.     Ay,  ay, 
If  I  had  learning  I  would  pray  the  Lord 
To  bring  them  in  :  but  I  'm  no  scholar,  no ; 
Book-learning  is  a  world  too  hard  for  me  : 
But  I  make  bold  to  say, —   O  Lord,  good  Lord, 
I  am  a  broken-down  poor  man,  a  fool 
To  speak  to  Thee  :  but  in  the  book  't  is  writ, 
As  I  hear  say  from  others  that  can  read, 
How,  when  Thou  earnest,  Thou  didst  love  the  sea, 
And  live  with  fisher  folk ;  whereby  't  is  said, 
Thou  knowest  all  the  peril  they  go  through, 
And  all  their  trouble.     As  for  me,  good  Lord, 
I  have  no  boat ;  I  am  too  old,  too  old  — 
My  lads  are  drowned ;  I  buried  my  poor  wife  ; 
My  little  lasses  died  so  long  ago 
That  mostly  I  forget  what  they  were  like. 
Thou  knowest,  Lord,  they  were  such  little  ones. 


OLD  HARBOR.  215 

I  know  they  went  to  Thee,  but  I  forget 
Their  faces,  though  I  missed  them  sore. 

'  O  Lord, 

I  was  a  strong  man  —  I  have  drawn  good  food 
And  made  good  money  out  of  Thy  great  sea  — 
But  yet  I  cried  for  them  at  nights  ;  and  now 
Although  I  be  so  old,  I  miss  my  lads. 
And  there  be  many  folk  this  stormy  night 
Heavy  with  fear  for  theirs.     Merciful  Lord, 
Comfort  them  !  Save  their  honest  boys,  their  pride, 
And  let  them  hear,  next  ebb,  the  blessedest 
Best  sound  —  the  boat  keels  grating  on  the  sand. 
But  Lord,  I  am  a  trouble  !  and  I  sit 
And  I  am  lonesome,  and  the  nights  are  few 
That  any  think  to  come  and  draw  a  chair, 
And  sit  in  my  poor  place  and  talk  awhile. 
Why  should  they  come,  forsooth  !  Only  the  wind 
Knocks  at  my  door,  O  long  and  loud  it  knocks, 
The  only  thing  God  made  that  has  a  mind 
To  enter  in.' 

"  Yea  thus  the  old  man  spake, 
These  were  the  last  words  of  his  aged  mouth, — 
BUT  ONE  DID  KNOCK.     One  came  to  sup  with  him, 
That  humble,  weak  old  man  !  knocked  at  his  door 
In  the  rough  pauses  of  the  laboring  wind. 

"  What  He  said 

In  that  poor  place  where  He  did  talk  awhile, 
I  cannot  tell :  but  this  I  am  assured, 
That  when  the  neighbors  came  the  morrow  morn, 
What  time  the  wind  had  bated,  and  the  sun 
Shone  on  the  old  man's  floor,  they  saw  the  smile 
He  passed  away  in,  and  they  said, — '  He  looks 
As  he  had  woke  and  seen  the  face  of  Christ ; 
And  with  that  rapturous  smile  held  out  his  arms 
To  come  to  Him.' 


2l6  OLD  HARBOR. 

"  Can  such  a  one  be  here  ? 
So  old,  so  weak,  so  ignorant,  so  frail, 
The  Lord  be  good  to  thee,  thou  poor  old  man ; 
It  would  be  hard  with  thee  if  heaven  were  shut 
To  such  as  have  not  learning.     Nay,  nay,  nay, 
He  condescends  to  them  of  low  estate  : 
To  such  as  are  despised  He  cometh  down, 
Stands  at  the  door  and  knocks."  * 


Next  morning,  which  was  Sunday,  the  young  house 
keeper  told  me  that  her  uncle  had  some  years  before 
lost  his  only  children,  two  vigorous  young  men,  in  a 
storm  off  this  coast.  They  perished  on  a  ledge  a  little 
out  of  the  harbor,  in  full  sight  from  my  chamber  win 
dow.  And  an  easy  chair  by  this  window  was  the  old 
man's  observatory,  where  he  spent  hours  together  of 
daylight,  looking  out  upon  the  deep, —  in  quiet  hours 
when  the  picture  is  very  beautiful,  and  in  days  of  wild 
storm ;  but  he  sees  little  else  than  that  fatal  rock. 
When  I  learned  that  the  spot  is  commonly  called,  "  the 
Deadman's  Ledge,"  it  was  some  weeks  before  I  could 
look  down  the  harbor  without  half  shuddering. 

This  young  woman's  grandfather,  the  father  also  of 
my  host,  led  a  hard  life  in  the  way  of  sea-faring  adven 
ture.  He  was  one  of  a  crew  of  seven,  who  lost  sails, 
bowsprit  and  rudder  on  the  Georges  Banks  in  early 
winter;  and  then  floated  upon  the  Atlantic  two  hun 
dred  sixty-one  days.  They  had  only  a  week's  pro 
visions,  and  one  barrel  of  water ;  but  lived  upon  what 

*  Jean  Ingelow,  Poems  : — "Brothers  and  a  Sermon.'1'' 


OLD  HARBOR.  217 

fish  they  caught,  and  such  sustenance  as  they  could  get 
from  a  quantity  of  chocolate  and  rum  on  board.  They 
cut  away  all  their  upper  works  for  fuel.  Rain  water 
offered  them  drink,  but  they  were  at  one  time  without 
water  for  three  weeks :  two  died  of  thirst.  During  all 
this  time  they  saw  only  two  vessels.  A  few  days  before 
they  were  taken  off,  they  caught  a  rat,  which  seemed 
the  sweetest  morsel  that  ever  passed  the  lips  of  five 
starving  men.  They  were  then  rescued  by  the  ship  of 
an  enemy,  the  country  being  then  at  war.  The  British 
captain  took  them  into  New  York  harbor  and  gave 
them  a  boat  to  make  their  way  home. 

"  My  grandfather's  body  lies  in  the  graveyard  back 
of  the  house,"  said  Huldah.  "  Perhaps  you  would  like 
to  go  there." 

Before  church  service,  I  went  to  the  burial  hill; 
where  the  sleepers  could  still  hear  the  sea  roar,  if  their 
ears  were  not  heavy.  The  mariner  had  died  a  little 
past  middle  life ;  and  this  was  his  epitaph, — 

"  Though  Boreas'  blast  and  Neptune's  waves, 

Have  tossed  me  to  and  fro, 

In  spite  of  both,  by  God's  decree, 

I  harbor  here  below. 

Now  here  at  anchor  do  I  lie, 
With  many  of  our  fleet, 
In  hope  again  for  to  set  sail, 
My  Saviour  Christ  to  meet." 

I  saw  one  monument,  upon  the  very  height  of  the 
hill,  which  bore  the  names  of  seventy-eight  Old  Harbor 


21 8  OLD  HARBOR. 

men,  who  had  perished  in  one  gale  on  the  fishing 
banks  forty  years  ago. 

The  wind  is  still  blowing  wildly  this  morning,  a  dry 
gale,  rilling  the  air  with  sand  and  producing  general 
discomfort.  Coming  down  from  the  grave  yard,  I 
walked  through  the  town.  Near  the  corner,  where  the 
little  custom  house  stands,  I  saw  a  Sandy  Point  fisher 
man  navigating  the  streets  against  a  heavy  head  wind. 

He  was  laden  with  his  wife's  new  bonnet,  stowed  in 
a  bandbox,  evidently  taken  from  a  house  near  by, 
where  I  saw  a  small  milliner's  sign  tacked  on  the  cor 
ner.  His  wife  was  going  to  church  with  new  head  gear 
that  day.  Walking  behind  him  were  three  young 
ladies,  a  gentleman,  and  one  who  seemed  to  be  a  con 
stable  or  some  such  dignitary.  Jack  had  his  hat 
pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  his  head  bowed,  to  keep  the 
cold  wind  and  sand  from  cutting  his  face ;  and  he  was 
"tacking"  this  way  and  that,  crossing  and  recrossing 
the  narrow  way,  keeping  no  watch  out  for  breakers. 
When  close  in  front  of  me,  he  ran  foul  of  a  stone  post; 
and  he  was  under  such  headway  that  the  post  smashed 
the  bandbox,  and  knocked  him  down.  His  heels,  fly 
ing  in  the  air,  struck  one  of  the  ladies  in  the  pit  of  the 
stomach,  felling  her  to  the  ground.  The  constable 
interfered ;  and  was  about  carrying  him  to  the  lockup 
for  being  half  seas  over:  but  the  sailor  convinced  the 
official  that  he  was  merely  "beating"  in  a  storm. 
Getting  under  the  lee  of  an  alleyway,  I  helped  him 
examine  his  cargo.  The  cover  of  the  bandbox  was 
carried  away  in  the  gale;  but  after  taking  off  the 


OLD  HARBOR.  219 

wrapping  papers,  the  duck  of  a  bonnet  was  found  safe. 
Going  into  church,  half  an  hour  after,  I  saw  Jack  in 
a  corner  of  the  entry  telling  the  yarn  with  great  gusto. 
I  must  confess  that  as  I  stood  by  the  stove,  I  had  the 
curiosity  to  look  about  the  meeting  house  a  little,  to 
see  whether  the  bonnet  had  come  to  church ;  but  I  did 
not  recognize  it,  though  I  saw  a  good  many  which 
looked  as  if  they  had  been  badly  smashed  in  some 
former  period  of  the  world's  history. 


220  AMONG   THE  ISLANDS. 


XIX. 
AMONG   THE   ISLANDS. 

IN  a  recent  visit  to  Sandy  Point  to  converse  with 
Cephas'  old  parishioners,  I  found  that  almost 
every  man  spoke  of  him  as  one  who  loved  to  be 
much  alone.  The  walk  upon  the  Long  Beach  de- 
cribed  in  preceding  chapter,  indicates  the  way  in 
which  Cephas  spent  no  small  part  of  the  time  during 
his  brief  Sandy  Point  pastorate.  But  there  was  a  pur 
pose  in  it :  — 

"  The  beach  is  a  closet,  and  the  doors  are  shut  about 
me.  Locked  between  land  and  sea  I  pray  for  personal 
privity,  for  long  hours  in  the  study,  and  for  invalids 
who  cannot  reach  the  life-giving  sea." 

"  Sometimes  I  go  upon  the  beach  at  low  tide  at 
nightfall,  in  a  time  of  dense  fog  and  heavy  sea;  and 
step  into  the  edge  of  the  waters  so  far  as  to  get  a  full 
view  of  the  rise  and  curl  and  breaking  of  the  waves. 
The  bare  reach  of  sand  behind,  and  the  fog  concealing 
so  much  on  either  side  yet  revealing  so  much  on  the 
side  next  the  sea — where  the  white  waves  are  swiftly 
advancing  with  high  crests  and  heavy  fall  and  deafen 
ing  roar, —  give  a  sense  of  solitude  and  the  nearness  of 


AMONG    THE  ISLANDS.  221 

Infinite  and  overwhelming  Power,  as  if  the  world  un 
seen  had  opened  and  one  were  standing  alone  in  the 
great  Presence.  The  soul  of  the  devout  man  is  aided 
by  such  surroundings  in  making  an  entire  surrender  of 
himself  to  God ;  and  his  prayers  are  quickened  by  a 
more  perfect  sense  of  being  alone  than  one  easily  gets 
in  a  common  closet." 

A  whooping-crane  now  stands  upon  a  pedestal  in  my 
study ;  which  Cephas  procured  at  Sandy  Point  and  pre 
sented  to  me.  This  dead  and  stuffed  form  was  once  a 
living  preacher.  He  used  to  stand  in  a  marsh,  and 
harangue  a  multitude  of  his  fellow-cranes  by  the  hour ; 
after  hearing  him  a  little  while  they  would  give  assent 
by  a  general  outcry,  and  then  he  would  go  on  again. 
At  the  time  he  lost  his  life,  the  noisy  crowd  had  gath 
ered  to  go  south,  filling  the  air  with  deafening  clangor, 
like  an  army  uttering  a  confused  cry. 

"  Unless  rich  spiritual  gifts  are  yours,"  says  Cephas' 
letter  with  this  gift,  "  you  have  little  more  dignity  than 
an  eloquent  crane." 

Cephas  did  not  spend  his  time  at  the  seaside  in 
merely  wading  into  the  water  like  a  crane,  or  stand 
idling  —  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the  other  —  with 
an  eye  out  constantly  for  a  good  dinner. 

As  his  health  improved,  Cephas  took  up  new  work 
among  the  islands  of  the  Nuntundale  Archipelago,  to 
the  eastward  of  the  Island  Home.  I  once  accompa 
nied  him  in  his  parochial  round.  Any  reader  who 
loves  to  linger  by  the  sea,  will  be  glad  to  wander  with 


222  AMONG    THE  ISLANDS. 

me  a  few  pages  in  visiting  the  pleasantest  home 
Cephas  ever  occupied, —  a  home  in  flitting  like  a  bird 
from  one  rocky  isle  to  another,  never  weary  of  the 
sound  of  the  surf  and  the  sight  of  the  sparkling  waters. 
I  have  little  hope,  however,  of  reproducing  the  vision 
which  so  attracted  me ;  and  my  homely  notes  can  be  of 
little  use,  unless  by  them  some  one  may  be  led  to  see 
these  islands  for  himself. 

Upon  our  first  Sabbath  in  a  village  of  four  thousand 
inhabitants,  I  looked  about  to  find  a  church  spire ;  but 
the  masts  in  the  harbor  were  the  only  spires  I  saw. 
The  meeting-house,  was  very  much  like  an  enormous 
barn,  shingled  on  the  sides  to  make  it  warmer  than 
clapboards  could.  Inside,  we  found  things  as  they  had 
been  for  a  hundred  years  —  save  that  the  unused  gal 
leries  were  now  boarded  up  ;  the  floor  rising  toward 
the  back ;  the  seats  solid,  venerable,  impressive ;  and 
truncated  pyramids  on  each  side  the  reading-desk  to 
support  the  lamps. 

Upon  Monday,  we  made  a  trip  through  an  immense 
extent  of  low  pines :  thence  across  a  prairie  country  in 
the  heart  of  the  island  flat  as  a  floor  and  out  of  sight  of 
the  sea;  then  followed  the  eastern  beach  for  some 
miles,  part  of  the  way  under  a  bank  a  hundred  feet 
high.  Next,  turning  north  toward  the  mouth  of  the 
port,  we  followed  a  strip  of  marsh,  a  few  rods  wide  and 
nine  miles  long,  which  separates  the  harbor  from  the 
ocean.  This  low  green  wall  rising  just  above  water 
line,  like  the  belt  of  a  Pacific  lagoon,  is  a  very  cheery 
walk  by  wild  or  calm  water. 


AMONG   THE  ISLANDS.  223 

The  people  on  this  island  seemed  to  me  more 
friendly  on  short  acquaintance,  than  any  I  ever  met 
elsewhere.  Business,  by  which  many  had  become  rich, 
had  gone  into  decay ;  and  there  was  an  appearance  of 
leisure  on  the  part  of  the  whole  population.  Their 
kindness,  and  confidence  in  human  nature,  seemed  sur 
prising.  A  boy  would  leave  his  play  and  go  some 
squares  to  show  a  traveler  upon  his  way.  A  store 
keeper  left  his  shop,  and  went  a  long  distance  with  me 
to  point  out  where  a  man  lived.  My  friend  who  wanted 
to  visit  the  museum,  was  astonished  to  hear  the  town- 
crier  ringing  his  bell  in  the  streets,  and  calling  out  for 
the  janitor  to  wait  on  the  stranger. 

Isolated  as  they  are,  the  people  all  know  each  other, 
and  every  new  face  is  marked.  No  rascality  can  be 
cut  up  on  the  island,  without  its  being  known  at  once 
who  did  it;  and  no  one  can  slip  away  without  being 
missed.  Men  of  bad  habits  are  sent  off.  Entering 
the  open  door  of  a  candy,  cake,  and  tea  establishment, 
I  found  no  keeper.  After  considerable  time  he  ap 
peared,  having  been  absent  watching  with  a  sick  man. 
In  another  shop,  in  the  evening,  after  I  had  waited 
some  time,  a  boy  came  in  from  a  neighboring  house  to 
see  what  I  wanted  to  buy.  I  told  Cephas  that  he 
would  do  more  good  in  trying  to  get  people  to  emigrate 
to  this  happy  island,  than  he  would  by  preaching  to 
persons  living  there. 

Our  passage  to  the  small  islands  in  the  north  was 
marred  by  sickness,  so  severe  as  to  lead  me  to  have  great 
respect  for  that  theory  which  pronounces  the  whole 


224  AMONG    THE  ISLANDS. 

Atlantic  ocean  one  vast  dose  of  ipecac ;  and  I  sympa 
thized  heartily  with  the  Yankee  minister  who  "  vomited 
one-eighth  of  the  way  round  the  world  on  a  pleasure 
trip."  I  was  much  struck  by  the  singular  appearance 
of  some  of  the  islets  we  passed.  There  was  one  island 
about  forty  feet  long,  with  overhanging  cliffs  at  each 
end,  and  two  trees  growing  upon  it  like  masts  with  full 
sail;  it  was  called  Schooner  Island.  Not  far  from  it 
two  sharp  ears  of  granite  rose  out  of  the  water,  nearly 
fifty  feet  high ;  as  if  some  gigantic  Jack  had  gone  down 
there  leaving  his  ears  standing  for  fishermen  to  steer 
by.  In  approaching  our  destined  port  the  shores  were 
very  bold;  usually  forty  feet  high,  perpendicular  or 
overhanging  the  water.  Turning  the  point  to  make  the 
harbor,  a  large  sized  tree  was  discovered  jutting  out 
like  a  bowsprit  from  the  lean  soil  on  the  verge  of  the 
rocks;  in  its  youth  partially  overturned  by  a  storm, 
now  firmly  rooted  and  holding  its  place  in  the  very 
track  of  the  tempests. 

The  cleavage  of  the  rocks  is  such  as  to  afford  re 
markable  seats  arranged  all  along  trie  waterside ;  as  if 
the  islands  were  so  many  amphitheatres  for  inviting 
spectators  to  witness  the  play  of  the  waves  and  their 
fierce  battle.  Ordinary  tides  make  as  much  surf  on 
these  islands  as  ordinary  storms  do  on  the  mainland : 
and  when  long  gales  have  stirred  up  the  sea,  the  shock 
of  the  waves  seems  to  threaten  the  stability  of  the 
rocky  shores,  the  spray  dashing  completely  over  the 
few  roods  of  soil. 


AMONG    THE  ISLANDS.  225 

"  They  come  —  they  mount  —  they  charge  in  vain, 

Thus  far,  incalculable  main  ! 

No  more  !     Thine  hosts  have  not  o'erthrown 

The  lichen  on  the  barrier  stone. 

Have  the  rocks  faith  that  thus  they  stand 

Unmoved,  a  grim  and  stately  band, 

And  look  like  warriors  tried  and  brave, 

Stern,  silent,  reckless,  o'er  the  wave  ? " 

In  little  hollows  made  rich  by  decaying  rock,  deep 
dyed  flowers  flourish.  Patches  of  garden  show  where 
the  families  of  seamen  are  anchored,  while  the  men 
themselves  ride  the  high  seas.  The  bits  of  granite, 
which  compose  the  archipelago,  seem  to  have  been 
dropped  into  the  sea  that  sailors  might  breed  upon 
them,  like  gulls,  conveniently  near  the  water.  The 
old  salts  about  here  have  been  "pickled  in  the  brine 
from  birth." 

"The  moist  waves  of  the  sea  they  sailed," 

early  and  late.  Here  was  one  who  began  as  a  boy  and 
followed  the  sea  more  than  forty  years,  twenty-nine 
upon  the  quarter  deck ;  his  keel  made  miles  enough  to 
circle  the  globe  forty-seven  times,  with  sixteen  thou 
sand  knots  thrown  in  for  a  pleasure  excursion.  There 
was  a  time  when  one  person  out  of  every  twelve  in 
these  islands  was  master  of  a  ship.  These  dwellers 
in  the  ocean  always  see,  passing  by  their  doors,  ships 
sailing  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  globe.  And  these 
winged  heralds  are  always  calling  to  the  men  on  land, 
morning,  noonday,  or  evening, —  telling  them  to  be  great 
9 


226  AMONG    THE  ISLANDS. 

hearted,  and  to  sympathize  with  humanity  upon  every 
shore.  By  the  swift  ships  they  send  greeting  to  all 
the  globe. 

I  went  into  the  little  school-house,  to  see  what  the 
children  saw.  From  every  window,  they  could  see  the 
ships  going  upon  their  errands,  or  there  was  a  view  of 
the  distant  main.  It  was  much  like  looking  out  from  a 
cabin  or  forecastle.  The  teacher  said  that  he  felt  as  if 
he  was  living  on  a  large  ship,  anchored  with  a  fleet  in 
mid  ocean :  so  present  was  the  peculiar  scenery  of  the 
sea. 

Staying  on  such  land  as  this  is  like  a  voyage,  with 
every  breeze  salted.  Life  here  is  a  perpetual  camping 
out ;  one  has  apparently  nothing  to  do  but  sit  upon  the 
rocks  and  thrive  in  the  even  temperature.  The  waves 
cool  the  air  all  summer,  and  warm  the  shores  all  winter. 
And  the  daylight  is  longer  than  on  the  mainland,  for 
the  sea  is  like  a  mirror,  catching  upon  its  vast  reflect 
ing  surface  the  first  beams  of  day,  and  lighting  up  the 
atmosphere  long  after  sunset.  Evening  after  evening, 
we  were  lying  upon  the  shelves  of  the  rocks  toward 
the  west,  far  into  the  night;  it  seemed  as  if  the  day 
would  never  fade.  Morning  after  morning,  I  rose  to 
climb  the  highest  headlands  at  daybreak ;  thinking  I 
might 

"  Have  sight  of  Proteus  rising  from  the  sea, 
Or  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn." 

My  mind  is  full  of  pleasant  pictures  of  the  rising  sun, 
glancing  upon  many  waters,  and  touching  the  white 


AMONG    THE  ISLANDS.  227 

foam  that  breaks  on  many  a  shining  shore.  All  day 
long,  the  sunbeams  were  playing  on  the  quiet  deep, 
and  the  waters  were  dancing  about  the  rocks  of  green 
isles  and  desolate  reefs.  And  when  I  am  told  of  any 
earthly  beauty,  I  think  of  that  native  of  one  of  the 
Greek  islands,  who  in  the  vale  of  Tempe  was  asked  to 
praise  its  beauty;  but  he  looked  about  and  said, — 
"The  sea,  where  is  it?" 

The  islanders  told  me  that  upon  each  Sabbath  the 
words  of  their  pastor  were  as  if  he  had  come  from  the 
very  presence  of  God,  that  he  might  lead  them  with 
loving  hand  to  One  whom  he  loved  with  a  passion  of 
devotion.  And  that  in  his  ordinary  meetings  with  the 
fishermen  and  their  families,  his  warm  hand  and  kind 
words  seemed  to  proceed  from  a  hidden  life.  They 
took  knowledge  of  him  that  he  had  been  with  Jesus. 

Cephas  once  gave  me  some  account  of  an  old  man, 
who  had  been  pastor  among  these  islands  during  half 
a  century.  He  was  too  infirm  to  frequent  the  sanctu 
ary,  but  not  too  old  to  pray  among  the  crags.  Cephas 
found  Father  Kent  one  sunny  day  under  the  lee  of  a 
great  rock  upon  a  high  headland;  his  attention  was 
arrested  by  hearing  his  own  name  mentioned  in  inter 
cession  by  the  trembling  voice  of  the  aged  man. 
Without  discovering  himself  to  the  devotee,  Cephas 
contrived  to  fall  into  his  company  when  he  saw  him 
slowly  picking  his  steps  towards  home. 

"Good,  morning,  Father." 

"  A  fair  day,  my  son." 


228  AMONG    THE  ISLANDS. 

"Is  the  day  fair  with  you ? " 

"It  is  always  fair,  if  I  can  do  as  I  used  to  do;  if  I 
can  get  into  the  pines  yonder  to  pray,  or  come  up  to 
weep  before  God  under  the  lee  of  this  head." 

"  I  hope  that  you  always  pray  for  the  old  church  and 
the  new  minister." 

"  I  do,  my  son.  I  pray  that  you  may  pray.  By  two 
hours  of  prayer  you  will  come  to  more  understanding 
than  by  all  day  work  in  your  study  without  it.  God 
will  not  leave  you  to  think  time  wasted  spent  in  His 
company.  Let  other  men  seek  books,  do  you  cleave 
fast  to  the  unseen  God.  The  best  boon  in  life  is  to 
gain  *  that  light  which  being  compared  with  the  light  is 
found  before  it,  more  beautiful  than  the  sun,  and  above 
all  the  orders  of  the  stars.' " 

I  have  tried  hard  to  locate  the  Rock  of  Intercession, 
as  I  found  it  alluded  to  in  Cephas'  papers.  It  is  upon 
one  of  the  islands  in  the  Nuntundale  archipelago.  I 
cannot  tell  for  a  certainty  upon  which  island  it  is, 
though  I  have  writhin  two  years  searched  for  it.  I  am 
not  sure  that  I  have  seen  it.  It  appears  to  have  been 
an  abrupt  ledge  of  great  height  near  a  village,  with  a 
secluded  vale  upon  at  least  one  side  of  it ;  from  its  top 
a  fair  vision  by  day  of  moving  tide,  bending  treetops, 
outcropping  peaks  of  granite,  and  in  the  night  a  sense 
of  great  nearness  to  the  stars  and  a  perfect  isolation, 
as  if  there  were  no  houses  near  it  and  no  passers  by 
in  the  roadway  under  its  foot. 

It  was  upon  this  Rock  in  the  night  time, —  as  I  con- 


AMONG    THE  ISLANDS.  229 

elude  from  his  manuscripts, —  that  Cephas  consecrated 
himself  in  a  peculiar  manner  to  a  life  of  intercession. 
Here  the  Shagbark  was  devoted  to  a  new  use,  not  only 
for  a  life  of  prayer  but  primarily  prayer  for  others. 
This  peaked  Rock  and  the  vale  hard  by  bore  witness 
to  the  fulfilment  of  the  midnight  vows.  It  cannot  be 
so  properly  said  that  this  was  the  formation  of  any  new 
habit  on  his  part,  as  that  it  was  an  era  in  which  he 
brought  to  the  very  front  that  which  had  entered 
largely  into  his  life  in  former  years. 

Once  when  Cephas  with  heavy  blankets  spent  the  en 
tire  night  upon  the  Rock  of  Intercession,  he  fell  asleep 
in  the  small  hours  and  dreamed  of  the  dead  Helen. 
In  her  glorified  form  she  stood  at  his  side,  and  touched 
him,  saying, — "Arise,  and  pray  for  the  dark  popula 
tions,  who  do  not  see  Christ  the  Light."  And,  after 
that,  he  led  a  new  life,  in  respect  to  world-wide  prayers : 
this  touch  of  the  angel  hand  giving  new  impulse  to  his 
intercession  for  those  whom  he  had  little  hope  of  reach 
ing  by  personal  ministry. 

Sometimes,  as  the  Island  pastor  was  pacing  lonely 
beaches  or  looking  out  from  some  rough  rocky  castle 
on  the  brink  of  the  sea,  he  was  startled  by  the  cry  of 
the  loon,  floating  like  an  air  bubble  upon  the  uneasy 
waves;  and  he  always  remembered  the  Indian  supersti 
tion,  that  this  weird  voice  is  the  cry  of  a  lost  soul. 
But  his  mind  dwelt  less  on  future  spiritual  disaster, 
than  upon  the  present  loss  of  power  and  privilege. 
He  had  faith  that  prayer  was  a  true  missionary  power 
in  the  world,  coupled,  as  it  always  must  be,  with  care- 


230  AMONG    THE  ISLANDS. 

ful  devising  to  set  on  foot  moral  movements,  which  will 
affect  distant  continents  and  the  lone  isles  of  far-off 
seas.  He  delighted  to  take  a  map,  and  spread  it  out 
before  the  Lord. 

"  We  often  speak  of  seas,  streams,  mountains,  for 
ests,"  wrote  Cephas,  "but  the  ragged  outlines  of  the 
continents,  and  the  myriad  isles  of  the  earth  are 
also  full  of  beauty.  I  love  the  map;  to  look  at  the 
world  as  a  whole,  as  if  an  apple  in  my  hand,  or  spread 
out  as  a  picture  before  my  eyes.  If  I  open  the  map 
upon  a  hill  top,  I  remember  what  I  have  read  about 
these  countries,  and  love  to  look  on  the  world  as 
my  parish ;  I  especially  remember  the  words  of  proph 
ecy  and  pray  for  the  reign  of  Christ  in  every  land. 

"I  ask  blessing  for  all  who  dwell  near  the  great 
mountain  ranges  of  the  world,  the  dwellers  on  the  flat 
plains  in  the  center  of  continents ;  and  those  who  live 
in  wide  river  valleys,  or  by  the  sea,  and  those  who  ride 
the  waves.  I  would  pray  eagerly  for  the  dense  popula 
tions  of  cities ;  but  more  especially  for  neglected  lands 
where  men  are  few  and  savage, — for  whom  few  prayers 
are  made.  Where  the  millions  gather  there  is  the  spot 
for  establishing  God's  kingdom ;  but  He  also  loves  the 
solitudes  of  the  world.  There  is  no  favorite  place  with 
Him.  New  Zealand  and  South  Africa  are  dear  to  the 
heart  of  Christ  as  Olivet  and  Gethsemane.  Alaska 
and  Australia,  Pekin  and  Timbuctoo  are  as  precious  as 
Nazareth  and  Nain.  Our  God  made  the  whole  round 
world ;  and  He  loves  Greenland,  Labrador,  Siberia  and 
Patagonia.  He  has  purposes  of  mercy  for  all.  Every 


AMONG    THE  ISLANDS.  231 

part  of  the  world's  map  will  one  day  be  marked  with 
white ;  and  the  banner  of  Christ  will  rise  on  every  peak 
of  the  Andes,  and  by  every  wild  stream  in  the  deep 
forests  of  Brazil,  and  amid  the  deserts  of  Africa  and  on 
the  wild  steppes  of  Asia.  The  Turkoman  rides  over 
soil  that  belongs  to  Christ.  Christian  churches  will 
rise  in  every  Chinese  village,  and  amid  the  heated 
homes  of  India,  and  on  the  cool  sides  of  the  Hima 
laya." 

"Thou  art  sore  troubled  in  mind  for  Israel's  sake," 
said  the  Lord  to  Esdras :  "  Lovest  thou  that  people 
better  than  He  that  made  them  ?"  Cephas  prayed,  not 
because  he  had  any  fear  that  the  Lord  did  not  love 
men  better  than  he  did :  but  he  would  fain  talk  with 
his  Father  about  all  the  works  of  His  hands,  and  live 
intimately  with  Him  according  to  the  Scripture  ideal. 
And  he  heard  a  Voice  saying, — "  Concerning  the  works 
of  my  hands,  command  ye  me;"  and  "I  will  be  in 
quired  of  to  do  it  for  them."  It  was  because  the  Lord 
loved  men,  that  Cephas  prayed  for  them. 

Often  in  the  winter  he  found  shelter  from  the  wind 
upon  the  sunny  verandas  of  summer  houses  close  to 
the  sea.  And  these  floors  witnessed  the  prayers  of  a 
prostrate  man,  pleading  for  the  multitudes  wherever 
they  are  settled  upon  fragments  of  land  washed  by  the 
great  world  of  waters. 

"Oh,  ye  dwellers  by  the  sea,"  said  he  who  rose 
before  the  daybreak,  "  I  will  tell  you  how  to  redeem  the 
time.  After  eight  or  nine  hours'  sleep  in  a  winter 
night,  rise  at  six,  go  by  starlight  to  the  lonely  beach  at 


232  AMONG   THE  ISLANDS. 

low  tide ;  and,  if  the  air  is  still  and  not  too  keen,  pace 
up  and  down  the  smooth  frozen  sand,  and  wait  for  the 
full  sunrise.  There  is  a  freshness  and  beauty  in  the 
sky  and  on  the  sea  and  the  shore,  such  as  is  never  seen 
at  any  other  season,  hour  or  place.  The  hard  and 
level  floor  of  sand  banked  behind  by  bulwarks  of  ice 
and  snow,  the  strange  coloring  on  the  water,  and  the 
glow  of  the  morning  clouds  and  light,  seem  to  suggest 
another  country  from  what  is  seen  by  night  or  full  day 
light  or  under  the  setting  sun.  It  is  a  world  by  itself. 
It  is  not  night  nor  common  day ;  but  a  season  strange 
as  if  upon  another  planet.  It  is  a  rare  hour  in  a  whole 
lifetime;  like  a  morning  of  spiritual  communion  with 
another  and  better  world.  It  is  in  such  a  closet,  that  I 
give  up  all  my  care  to  God,  and  render  thanksgiving. 
So  is  my  morning  hour  like  a  holy  day,  before  I  begin 
my  common  day's  work." 

"  I  often  go  to  the  shore  of  the  ocean  in  winter ; 
when  the  water  is  smoking  like  the  plains  of  battle. 
The  air  is  very  cold,  and  the  warm  sea  sends  up  clouds 
of  vapor.  Some  of  the  tongues  of  mist  are  almost 
flame-like,  in  the  light  of  the  low  winter  sun.  When  it 
is  so  cold  that  my  breath  steams  like  an  engine,  I 
sometimes  find  that  the  surf-line  has  entirely  disap 
peared  under  a  thin  coating  of  ice,  which  covers  the 
shallow  water  all  along  the  coast.  The  whole  surface 
of  the  sea  is  level  as  a  floor ;  and  the  heat  of  the  water 
makes  the  northwest  wind  smoke  wherever  it  dips  into 
the  deep.  The  vapor  goes  whirling  like  loose  snow 
drifting  over  an  ice  floe,  with  the  blue  pavement  seen 


AMONG    THE  ISLANDS.  233 

through  the  curling  white  mist.  Far  at  sea  the  whole 
ocean  is  dense  with  vapor;  and  the  topsails  of  a 
schooner  move  along  above  the  white  cloud  like  an  ice 
boat  before  the  wind.  But  these  pictures  are  made 
perfect  only  by  the  figure  of  him  who  occupies  this 
scenery  as  the  temple  of  his  Father,  and  the  house  of 
prayer." 


234  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 


XX. 

A   WALK   IN   THE   RAIN. 

Long  Sands  at  York  extend  a  mile  and  a 
half ;  and  are  six  hundred  feet  wide  at  low  tide, 
-*-  —  the  widest  beach  on  the  New  England  coast, 
unless  it  be  Coffin's  beach,  or  the  north  end  of  Old 
Orchard.  One  cloudy  evening,  when  the  first  quarter 
of  the  moon  was  shining  in  the  west,  I  had  walked 
half  up  the  Long  Sands ;  and  it  was  so  dark  that  the 
distant  horns  of  the  beach  could  be  hardly  seen.  The 
sea-wall  on  the  left  seemed  very  low,  and  dark,  like 
a  distant  coast.  The  beach  was  so  gradual  in  its 
slope,  so  flat,  so  wide,  that — walking  midway  between 
the  beach  bank  and  the  water  at  low  tide  —  the  crests 
of  the  waves  rising  and  combing  upon  the  sands  ap 
peared,  in  the  dim  light,  to  be  upon  a  level  with  the 
part  of  the  beach  where  I  was  walking ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  could  see  little  rise  in  the  slope  of  the 
beach  toward  the  land, —  so  that  I  was,  to  all  intents, 
upon  the  level  sea.  The  beach  was  very  wet,  as  wet 
as  water ;  and  the  moon  shone  upon  the  wet  sands 
making  a  path  of  light  as  if  upon  the  sea.  Away  to 
the  east  I  could  see  Boone  Island  light,  and  to  the 


A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN.  235 

southeast  the  Isles  of  Shoals  light ;  and  on  the  west,  in 
land,  I  could  see  two  or  three  lights  in  distant  houses, 
like  lights  at  sea.  Altogether,  I  had  a  unique  sensa 
tion  ;  as  if  walking  on  the  sea,—  a  coaster  on  foot, 
taking  a  voyage  upon  the  sands.  While  walking  inland 
the  same  night,  over  strange  roads,  I  was  able  to  keep 
my  bearing  by  reference  to  the  lighthouses  off  the 
coast,  as  I  still  sailed  upon  my  sea  legs  over  the  old 
town  of  York. 

Very  naturally,  I  occupied  my  mind  in  some  part  of 
of  this  lonely  walk,  with  thinking  how  differently  things 
appear  to  us  by  night  from  what  they  do  by  day.  The 
familiar  beach  had  been  as  strange  to  me  as  if  I  had 
walked  upon  another  continent  in  another  zone.  And 
I  thought  how  differently  the  plans  of  youth  appear  to 
us  under  the  lights  and  shades  of  later  years.  Pet 
projects,  in  which  we  were  thoroughly  at  home,  are  now 
foreign  to  us.  And  I  remembered  the  perfect  passion 
my  friend  Cephas  had  for  literary  work  when  he  was  a 
boy.  He  composed  the  most  improbable  and  highly 
sensational  stories,  and  edited  a  boy  magazine.  When 
he  ought  to  have  been  at  the  dinner  table  or  at  play,  he 
was  writing  most  furiously  at  a  small  light-stand  in  the 
attic.  Once  he  told  me  that  his  ideal  in  life  was  to  be 
an  obscure  person  having  a  vast  influence  with  his  pen : 
he  would  like  to  hide  himself,  but  push  out  ideas  into 
the  world,  which  should  be  of  the  greatest  benefit  to 
society.  That  he  should  be  personally  obscure  seemed 
to  me  more  probable  than  that  he  should  fulfil  the  rest 
of  his  ideal. 


236  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 

I  wondered  whether  his  childish  notions  had  not 
wholly  changed  under  the  light  of  manhood.  He  had 
always  been  reserved  in  talking  about  this  in  later 
years ;  and,  aside  from  the  conversations  in  the  chap 
ter  on  the  Old  Red  Trunk  and  the  one  following  it,  I 
knew  little  of  his  views  on  book-making.  Still,  in  his 
very  last  talk  with  me,  he  had  said  something  indicating 
that  posthumous  influence  was  one  of  the  phantoms  he 
was  still  chasing.  To  a  man  of  my  mental  make-up 
this  seemed  a  very  erratic  wild  goose  to  follow  j  to  be 
shrinking  from  applause  in  one's  lifetime,  but  not  with 
out  hope  that,  goose-like,  he  might  be  of  more  use  to 
the  world  dead  than  alive. 

When  I  had  finished  my  walk,  and  come  round  again 
to  the  Short  Sands,  I  sat  for  awhile  upon  a  little  knoll 
looking  out  upon  the  dark  sea,  listening  to  the  heavy 
fall  of  the  breakers ;  and  there  settled  it  that  the  next 
time  I  should  see  Cephas, —  who  was  at  this  time  labor 
ing  at  Spit  Head  in  the  Archipelago, —  we  would  touch 
bottom  on  this  topic. 

The  next  time  I  saw  him,  was  when  he  stood  over 
my  prostrate  form,  as  I  waked  from  a  sound  sleep,  on 
the  top  of  Little  Neck  Hill  in  Ipswich.  I  had  camped 
there  for  the  night,  soldier-fashion,  with  a  patent  knap 
sack,  which  readily  unfolded  into  a  bed.  With  blanket 
and  rubber  strapped  over  me,  I  had  made  a  very  com 
fortable  night  under  the  stars.  At  daybreak  I  saw 
Cephas  with  a  cane  trying  to  kill  a  gnat  on  the  wing 
near  the  tip  of  my  nose. 

The  first  part  of  the  night  I  had  slept  well,  but  was 


A    WALK  IN  THE   RAIN.  237 

waked  before  midnight  by  the  unearthly  outcry  of  one 
of  the  big  oxen  in  the  pasture  with  me.  When  I  first 
opened  my  eyes,  I  thought  the  heavens  were  all  on 
fire ;  so  bright  were  the  stars,  and  so  great  the  con 
trast  between  waking  up  in  a  dark  chamber  and  under 
the  blaze  of  so  many  distant  suns.  Meteors  were  fly 
ing  overhead  and  mosquitoes  around  my  head,  and  I 
found  it  difficult  to  go  to  sleep  again.  Just  as  I  was 
about  to  drop  off,  up  came  a  fragment  of  moon  out  of 
the  sea ;  and  I  had  to  lie  awake  at  least  an  hour  and  a 
half,  watching  the  strange  light  on  sea  and  land. 
When  the  small  moon  had  made  such  progress  in  its 
upward  journey  that  I  felt  sure  it  would  not  fall  back 
into  the  waves,  and  when  the  third  ox  had  expressed 
his  indignation  at  being  disturbed  in  the  night  by  bad 
dreams  or  by  the  pranks  of  goblin  or  fairy,  and  when  I 
was  tired  of  looking  for  more  falling  stars,  I  fell  into  a 
deep  sleep, —  and  waked  to  see  Cephas. 

"  Can  you  sleep  with  all  this  going  on  before  your 
closed  eyes?"  said  the  spectre  with  a  cane.  As  I 
looked,  the  dawn  was  just  glowing  upon  the  world  of 
waters  in  the  east ;  the  face  of  the  deep  reflecting  the 
colors  of  the  sky  as  if  upon  a  vast  mirror, —  plains  of 
mother-of-pearl  or  opal, —  changing  with  the  varying 
hues  of  the  morning.  Cephas  sat  down  to  make  a 
note  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  orient ;  and  I  sat  by 
to  prompt  him. 

"  The  newspapers,"  he  said,  "  are  sending  out  report 
ers  to  attend  prize-fights ;  and  I  may  as  well  report  a 


238  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 

The  reader  who  is  opposed  to  sunrises  may  skip  the 
next  paragraphs.  Those  who  usually  lie  abed  in  the 
morning,  or  who  were  never  fortunate  enough  to  camp 
out  on  Little  Neck,  may  with  me  look  over  Cephas' 
shoulder,  and  read  his  notes. 

"Mem.  A  wine-colored  sea,  but  deep  blue  in  the 
distance :  a  star  glowing  like  fire  from  the  midst  of  a 
ruddy  sky.  The  wine-color  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
changes  to  the  richest  purple,  which  is  then  the  pre 
vailing  tint  for  half  an  hour.  The  deep  blue  on  the 
horizon  after  a  time  also  turns  into  purple,  at  first  very 
brilliant  then  deep  and  dark.  A  sloop  is  seen  in  the 
distance,  working  across  the  painted  sea.  The  color 
ing  varies  in  intensity,  and  assumes  the  form  of  ten 
wide  belts  of  purple  extending  from  the  horizon  to  the 
shore.  On  the  right  the  sea  is  like  white  wine.  To 
the  left,  dark  clouds  and  ribs  of  colored  sky  lie  low 
over  Plum  Island.  Over  the  open  sea  eastward  and 
directly  in  front  of  us  are  banks  of  glowing  topaz. 
From  the  place  where  the  sun  will  rise  there  is  an  im 
mense  cloud  of  dark  and  shifting  shades  of  red,  rising 
like  a  gull's  wing  and  flowing  far  north.  The  bright 
purple  sea  is  now  changed  to  a  glowing  ruddy  hue, 
and  this  color  holds  perhaps  fifteen  minutes,  while  the 
clouds  above  are  all  ablaze. 

"  Meantime,  a  white  mist  has  been  rising  from  the 
lower  part  of  Plum  Island  in  the  near  foreground  on 
our  left;  so  that  it  is  now  like  the  rim  of  a  coral  island 
with  a  lagoon  in  the  centre.  Banks  of  sand  are  on  the 
side  toward  the  sea.  Trees  and  clam  houses  appear 


A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN.  239 

along  the  western  margin  of  the  island.  And  the  river 
so  called,  on  the  west  of  the  island  and  stretching  to 
the  north,  is  now  reflecting  the  bright  colors  of  the  sky. 
Ducks  rise  and  wing  through  the  air,  then  suddenly 
wheel  and  make  for  the  inland  marshes,  crying  as  they 
go.  Turning  to  the  west  up  the  Ipswich  River,  and 
northwest  stretching  toward  Rowley,  the  marshes  are 
covered  with  white  fog :  round  hills  rise  out  of  it  like 
islands  ;  and  the  forms  of  trees  are  dimly  seen  upon  the 
hill-tops. 

"A  fisherman's  dory  appears  on  our  right,  coming 
out  of  Ipswich  River.  Beyond  the  river  are  the  sand 
dunes  still  dark,  and  a  dark  sand  beach.  And  the 
long  point  of  Cape  Anne  is  seen,  reaching  out  into  the 
sea,  like  a  dull  cloud-bank  resting  on  the  water.  I 
cannot,  however,  keep  my  eyes  off  the  golden  east :  the 
gold  all  at  once  changes  to  red,  then  golden  maroon, 
then  auburn,  then  golden  auburn,  then  auburn  clouded, 
then  straw-colored  cloud  and  darker  shades.  When  I 
turn  again  to  the  west,  I  see  the  clouds  of  red-rose 
overhanging  the  Ipswich  hills  and  spires.  And  in  the 
near  foreground,  northwest,  is  Great  Neck  Hill  with 
some  fourscore  cattle  camping  on  it,  not  yet  risen; 
and  their  forms  are  reflected  in  the  rose-colored  water, 
which  makes  up  from  the  river  between  the  Little  and 
the  Great  Neck. 

"  Now,  in  the  east,  the  sun  is  rising  like  a  glowing  fur 
nace,  sending  his  greetings  along  the  waters ;  and  the 
whole  world  about  Little  Neck  is  enlightened  by  a  new 
day.  The  clouds  over  the  sunrise  have  changed  to  one 


240  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 

quiet  bank  of  deep  auburn.  The  massive  golden 
bridge  from  the  sun  to  Little  Neck  is  too  bright  to  look 
upon.  I  turn  my  eyes  rather  to  the  deep  rosy  hues 
that  play  over  the  bar,  and  the  unmeasured  miles  of 
watered  silk  which  yonder  sloop  is  sailing  over. 

"  The  changes  on  the  face  of  sea  and  land  are  taking 
place  so  rapidly  as  to  outstrip  all  note  taking.  The 
waters  grow  wonderfully  bright.  The  mist  about  the 
sandy  headlands  at  the  hither  extremity  of  Plum 
Island  rise,  obscuring  the  outlines  of  the  cliffs.  The 
tents  and  clam  houses  further  up  the  island  shine  in 
the  new  light.  Now  the  clouds  in  the  east  are  chang 
ing  to  slate  color,  flecked  with  white.  Cape  Anne  is  a 
bank  of  dull  clay  color.  The  sun  is  veiled  in  a  cloud  — 
then  emerges  from  it.  The  clouds  and  the  ocean  are  a 
dark  white,  mist  rising  everywhere  from  the  smooth 
waves.  Now  the  fog  is  lifting  from  the  land ;  spires 
and  hills  back  from  the  sea  are  beginning  to  brighten 
in  the  sunlight.  The  white  sheet  is  removed  from 
Plum  Island,  and  the  island  glows  like  an  emerald. 
Castle  hill  on  the  right,  across  Ipswich  river,  is  now  a 
gem  of  perfect  beauty ;  every  spire  of  grass  on  it  show 
ing  its  deep  green. 

"  A  little  time  since  I  saw  movement  in  the  reflec 
tions  of  the  cattle  on  Great  Neck;  and  this  moment 
my  ears  are  filled  with  a  melancholy  crying  of  calves, 
and  the  noise  of  gunners  blazing  on  the  beach.  But 
far  above  all  meaner  sounds,  I  hear  the  roar  of  the 
surf,  as  it  begins  to  sound  heavily  right  and  left,  all 
along  outside  Plum  Island,  and  on  Ipswich  beach 
toward  the  Cape." 


A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN.  241 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  rainy  day,"  said  Cephas, 
"and  it  will  be  just  the  weather  to  walk  to  Mount 
Anne.  There  is  no  comfort  in  this  world  so  solid  as 
an  all  day  walk  in  a  pouring  rain.  Let's  try  it." 

"  Agreed.  There  is  nothing  dry  to  me  in  a  rain. 
I'd  as  soon  do  it  as  not,"  I  answered,  well  remembering 
many  such  days  of  unmixed  enjoyment  in  a  mixture  of 
mud  and  water, 

"  A  deluge  puts  a  man  to  practical  thinking,"  con 
tinued  Cephas,  "  and  it  nourishes  a  feeling  of  inde 
pendence,  so  long  as  he  is  not  washed  away  by  it.  It 
does  one  good  to  war  with  the  elements,  or  what  is 
better  to  take  what  comes  and  keep  the  peace.  He 
who  walks  in  the  rain  is  solitary,  and  has  strong  pur 
pose." 

First  strapping  my  knapsack,  we  put  on  rubber  suits, 
shouldered  our  packs  and  started  for  Mount  Anne. 
We  were  not  far  on  the  road  before  the  rain  came 
down, —  a  perfect  torrent  all  day  and  the  first  part  of 
the  night. 

"  Why  don't  you  do  as  the  great  inventors  have  done, 
and  bring  a  new  thought  into  the  world,"  I  asked  just 
before  the  rain  began.  "  Can  there  be  written  no  book 
that  will  make  an  era  in  society  to  mark  dates  from  ? 
Aim  high,  as  the  gunners  do.  Aim  high,  and  you  may 
hit  mediocrity.  Aim  at  mediocrity,  and  you  will  shoot 
below  it.  Elevate  your  aim  if  you  will  strike  a  dis 
tant  mark." 

After  waiting  sometime  for  this  shot  to  take  effect,  I 
began  again, — 


242  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 

"  Self  respect  leads  us,  even  in  discouraged  hours,  to 
believe  that  we  can  become  more  than  we  are.  Have 
we  no  latent  forces  ?  If  we  hope  to  wield  royal  powers 
in  the  future  life  we  ought  now  to  assert  ourselves,  and 
take  possession  of  no  small  section  of  this  world  and 
of  several  generations  of  time  by  our  influence.  Woe 
is  me,  if  I  can  get  no  respectable  hold  on  this  planet." 

But  even  this  sally  did  not  draw  fire.  Cephas  walked 
on  in  silence.  I  also  was  silent  After  the  rain  had 
fallen  enough  to  thoroughly  wet  the  ground,  my  com 
panion  made  answer :  — 

"  The  most  worthy  thing  to  aim  for  is  the  perfection 
of  one's  own  character;  and  that  can  best  be  reached 
by  a  faithful  discharge  of  present  duties.  A  man  who 
would  be  noble  will  find  stimulus  enough  in  trying  to 
compete  with  himself, —  to  make  every  day  better  than 
the  day  before  it.  To  do  my  work  as  well  as  I  can, 
and  every  day  better,  is  all  I  want.  My  success  is  so 
private  that  I  cannot  be  upset  in  my  plans,  except 
through  physical  indisposition ;  and  even  days  of  ill 
ness  are  of  use  in  making  a  perfect  life." 

Thinking  it  highly  probable  that  now  he  had  begun 
to  talk,  he  would  no  more  quit  till  a  change  of  weather, 
I  opened  up  on  the  main  business  of  the  day ; — 

"The  most  innocent  air-castle  possible  is  that  of 
building  a  posthumous  reputation.  Even  though  you 
modestly  work  among  your  own  people,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  make  as  good  sermons  as  you  can  for  your 
people.  But  if  your  ideas  are  extraordinarily  good  and 
exceedingly  well  put,  the  next  generation  will  need 


A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN.  243 

them  as  much  as  this  one  does.  Thought  fit  for  the 
best  minds,  choicely  expressed,  will  be  of  use  in  a  hun 
dred  years  from  now,  as  much  as  today.  You  ought 
to  live  and  die  in  the  firm  belief  that  your  ( remains ' 
will  be  useful ;  and  though  the  rag-man  shall  buy  them 
the  day  after  the  funeral,  you  will  never  stop  praising 
God  in  Heaven,  to  halloo  at  the  paper-maker  on  the 
earth,  who  is  making  pulp  of  your  old  sermons.  To 
dream  of  posthumous  fame  is  a  safe  outlet  for  the 
energies  of  the  most  ambitious ;  and  the  dream  may 
comfort  many  a  poor  fellow,  who  is  spending  nights 
and  days  in  skimming  and  churning  the  cream  of 
his  studies  to  make  butter  for  — " 

—  "Or  setting  curds  to  make  literary  cheese,  very 
green  and  very  strong,  for  coming  ages,"  interrupted 
Cephas,  who  could  not  stand  any  allusion  to  bad  butter 
and  mouldy  cheese  in  such  connection. 

Recovering  my  equanimity,  I  went  on  again, — "  How 
I  despise  the  ringing  of  human  applause  in  the  living 
ear ;  but  the  ear  of  a  dead  man  is  not  sensitive ;  and 
the  ear  of  an  angel  is  in  better  business  than  that  of 
listening  to  the  fame  of  earth." 

"  Of  all  the  men  on  the  face  of  the  earth,"  said  Ce 
phas,  as  he  punched  me  with  his  walking  stick,  "  I 
wonder  if  you  have  turned  prophet.  You,  who  have 
always  been  hankering  after  vain  reports  of  your  own 
reputation,  and  longing  to  hear  good  things  about  your 
self  !  And  now  you  talk  like  a  philosopher,  as  though 
it  was  all  a  vain  show,  and  you  would  modestly  get  into 
your  grave  for  fear  you  should  hear  some  one  speak 


244  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 

well  of  you.  I  should  think  you  had  stolen  all  the 
ideas  I  ever  had ;  for  you  know  I  have  always  been 
preaching  up  the  doctrine  of  living  obscurely,  and 
coming  to  some  grand  fame  after  death." 

"Well,  Cephas,  that  is  just  what  I  want  to  know 
frankly,"  I  answered.  "  I  half  suspected  it,  and  now  I 
want  to  know  all  about  it.  I  have  been  stealing  your 
ideas,  to  see  whether  you  would  claim  the  property. 
For  my  part,  I  certainly  believe  that  if  a  man  goes 
through  this  life  without  winning  a  great  reputation,  it 
is  precious  little  he  will  have  of  it  when  he  is  dead. 
And  if  you  are  one  of  the  stupids,  who  expect  to  thrust 
asinine  ears  out  of  the  grave  to  hear  that  your  literary 
fame  is  filling  all  the  earth,  I  want  to  know  it.  Come, 
out  with  it  honestly." 

And,  hereupon,  I  punched  him  with  the  muddy  end 
of  my  walking  stick.  We  wheeled  out  of  the  road,  and 
came  to  rest  in  a  grove  of  hemlocks ;  and  there 
lunched  on  hard-bread  and  raisins.  I  tried,  in  a  feeble 
manner,  to  tease  my  friend  into  some  frank  confession 
of  his  longings  for  future  fame.  For  I  knew  myself  to 
be  so  thoroughly  infatuated  with  ambitious  schemes  to 
gain  some  notoriety  in  my  lifetime,  that  I  thought  I 
should  take  comfort  in  knowing  Cephas  had  so  much 
weakness  about  him,  as  to  seek  that  dead,  which  I 
would  have  in  life.  Rather,  if  I  could  get  such  confes 
sion  out  of  him,  I  might  have  something  to  fling  back 
when  he  should  next  torture  me  with  an  address  on  the 
vanity  of  earthly  ambition.  Accordingly,  I  reminded 
him  of  what  he  had  said  when  we  were  boys,  and  what 


A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN.  245 

he  had  said  when  I  first  found  out  about  the  Old  Red 
Trunk  in  the  Island  Home.  But  I  could  wring  from 
him  no  other  confession  than  this:  that  he  would  do 
his  daily  work  so  well,  and  with  such  planning,  that  his 
sermons  —  becoming  fewer  year  by  year  —  should  con 
tain  his  best  thinking,  concentrated,  and  put  into  his 
best  style, —  with  some  hope  that  a  part  of  them  might 
be  thought  worthy  of  printing  and  using  by  some  Dry 
asdust  Tract  Society  after  his  demise. 

"  What  makes  you  talk  about  sermons  ? "  said  I,  as 
we  began  our  walk  again.  "  Why  not  try  some  fresh 
field  for  authorship  ?" 

"Fresh?"  answered  Cephas.  "Fresh?  To  make 
good  sermons  would  be  the  most  refreshing  thing  on 
this  planet.  The  making  of  first  class  sermons  is  a 
business  not  yet  overdone.  'Mr.  Webster,  is  the  pro 
fession  of  the  law  crowded  ? '  '  There  is  room  enough 
up  stairs,'  replied  the  man  of  Marshfield. 

"The  upper  shelf,  where  stand  the  classics  of  the 
pulpit  can  contain  a  few  more  books;  and  if  you  are 
ambitious  in  your  business,  as  you  claim  to  be,  I  would 
like  to  have  you  try  to  make  some  of  the  best  sermons 
in  the  English  language.  You  need  not  move  out  of 
your  parish  to  do  it.  The  names  of  South  and  Jeremy 
Taylor  were  once  no  better  known  than  yours.  And 
Jeremy  Taylor's  best  work  was  done  in  a  very  obscure 
community.  You  had  better  keep  to  your  sermons, 
rather  than  to  be  always  '  hankering  for  a  valise  and  a 
railroad  ticket.'  You  have  been  a  carpet  bagger  long 
enough.  Sermons,  which  bore  the  popular  mind  in 


246  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 

small  parishes,  augur  no  good  for  the  future  fame  of 
the  preacher.  If  you  will  seek  the  highest  kind  of 
authorship,  I  advise  you  to  quit  your  literary  projects, 
and  stick  to  your  business  in  snugly  meeting  the  wants 
of  your  people.  By  parochial  work  and  knowing  your 
men,  and  by  hard  hours  in  the  study,  and  by  prayer  for 
wisdom,  and  by  study  of  the  style  of  the  Bible  and 
books  that  will  live  forever,  you  may  be  able  to  make  a 
few  sermons  which  your  own  townsmen  will  not  wil 
lingly  let  die.  Whether  all  the  world  will  rise  up  and 
object  to  having  your  barrel  of  sermons  buried  with 
you,  like  the  weapons  of  an  Indian  warrior,  need  not 
be  asked  in  your  lifetime." 

It  being  my  turn  to  be  silent  I  made  no  reply,  know 
ing  that  Cephas  would  continue  to  throw  cold  water  on 
all  my  ambitions,  dripping  like  the  rain.  After  we  had 
walked  on  about  a  mile  with  the  storm  beating  against 
us  most  furiously,  Cephas,  being  ahead,  slacked  up  a 
little  when  the  rain  did,  and  expressed  himself  thus : — 

"How  can  any  man  dream  of  posthumous  fame, 
even  the  conquest  of  a  handful  of  his  own  townsmen 
after  he  is  gone,  unless  he  himself  has  led  a  rare  life? 
I  can,  however,  imagine  that  the  pastor  of  a  rural  par 
ish —  with  some  leisure  for  the  careful  study  of  his 
people  and  his  books  and  much  leisure  for  prayer  and 
opening  the  Scriptures  —  may  learn  somehow  to  adapt 
the  truth  to  the  men  about  him,  and  secure  the  interest 
of  farmers  and  mechanics  and  tradesmen  in  the  most 
vital  truths,  and  thus  arouse  his  whole  community  by 
the  greatest  ideas  which  can  enter  the  human  mind, — 
till  his  people  seem  to  be  eye  witnesses  of  those  things 


A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN.  247 

which  concern  the  children  of  immortality.  The  very 
truths  and  methods  and  style,  by  which  he  gets  such 
hold  on  his  townsmen,  will  be  likely  to  influence  men 
elsewhere  and  in  other  generations.  Human  nature  is 
substantially  the  same  in  all  ages.  Upon  this  axiom 
rests  the  only  possibility  of  permanent  literary  power. 
One  may  tickle  the  fancy  of  a  class  of  ill  proportioned 
minds,  but  he  who  meets  the  wants  of  man  will  abide 
forever.  Those  truths  which  relate  to  our  inner  life 
and  the  deepest  wants  of  the  race  are  the  most  abiding. 
If  it  were  possible  to  make  sermons,  which  fairly  set 
forth  the  truth,  interesting  to  the  masses  of  men,  they 
would  assume  rank  as  the  most  permanent  kind  of 
literature. 

"  Socrates  dwells  with  us  today,  and  will  never  lose 
his  influence  upon  the  human  race,  because  he  is  for 
ever  conversing  with  unequalled  skill  upon  some  of 
those  topics  which  every  thoughtful  man  is  always 
turning  over  in  his  own  mind.  Whoever  will  be  wise 
and  learn  to  separate  the  true  from  the  false  in  his 
mental  conceptions,  must  be  quickened  by  the  ques 
tionings  of  the  ancient  Greek.  Looking  into  those 
immortal  dialogues,  the  students  of  every  age  will 
behold  the  kind  of  work,  which  they  themselves  must 
do  before  it  can  be  said  that  their  minds  are  well  disci 
plined.* 

*NOTE.  —  "The  method  of  Socrates  survives  still  in  some  of  the 
dialogues  of  Plato,  and  is  a  process  of  eternal  value  and  universal 
•application.  There  is  no  man  whose  notions  have  not  been  first 
got  together  by  spontaneous,  unartificial  associations,  resting  upon 
forgotten  particulars,  blending  together  disparities  and  inconsis- 


248  A    WALK  IN  THE  RAIN. 

So  all  writers  upon  religious  themes  have  in  hand 
problems,  which  every  truly  thoughtful  man  in  every 
age  will  study  for  himself.  Those  books,  therefore, 
upon  these  topics,  which  are  most  profound  and  reada 
ble,  clear,  concise  and  helpful,  are  the  ones  into  which 
the  best  minds  will  always  delight  to  look,  since  these 
themes  are  undying  as  the  human  race.  If  a  writer 
knows  men,  knows  the  truth,  and  knows  the  style  fit 
for  the  truth  and  for  men,  he  ought,  by  a  wise  choice 
of  subjects  and  by  the  concentration  of  all  his  energies 
upon  them,  to  prepare  something  which  will  suitably 
set  forth  the  highest  truths,  and  leave  a  worthy  legacy 
to  those  who  come  after  him.  One  man  who  gives 
himself  heartily  to  preparing, —  what  shall  be  in  sub 
stance  if  not  in  form, —  sermons  of  as  high  an  order  as 
he  can,  may  elevate  the  standard  of  sermon  making 
throughout  the  countries  where  the  English  tongue  will 
be  used.  Certain  men  have  done  this.  To  do  this, 
the  preacher  need  not  occupy  a  commanding  position ; 
but  to  do  this  he  must  be  diligent  and  faithful  and  of 
noble  soul  in  the  use  of  his  hours,  wherever  he  may 
happen  to  be." 

When  we  came  to  our  noonday  halt,  it  was  in  a 
deserted  barn  not  far  from  the  public  road.  We  found 
a  place  ten  feet  square  where  the  roof  did  not  leak, 
and  there  lunched. 

tencies,  and  having  in  his  mind  old  and  familiar  phrases  and 
oracular  propositions  of  which  he  has  never  rendered  to  himself  an 
account ;  and  there  is  no  man  who  has  not  found  it  a  necessary 
branch  of  self-education  to  break  up,  analyze  and  reconstruct  these 
ancient  mental  compounds." — Grote. 


MORE  RAIN.  249 


XXI 

MORE   RAIN. 

WHAT !  More  rain  ?  The  shower  preceding  has 
been  very  gentle  compared  with  the  deluge 
to  come ! 

"  Perhaps  I  have  not  dealt  wisely  in  uncorking 
Cephas  upon  the  topic  in  hand ;  but  a  '  continual  drop 
ping  in  a  rainy  day'  and  Cephas  are  alike."  So 
thought  I  to  myself  when  Cephas  began  again  as  soon 
as  lunch  was  over,  and  poured  out  floods  of  talk  all 
the  afternoon. 

"  When  as  students  we  search  through  libraries," 
said  this  day-dreamer,  "seeking  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  most  thoughtful  men  of  this  age  and  all  ages, 
seeking  everywhere  to  find  the  elements  of  permanent 
literary  power,  we  cannot  conceal  it  from  ourselves  that 
there  are  comparatively  few  books  which  will  be  widely 
popular  in  the  coming  years.  Some  books  are  so  full 
of  thought,  beautifully  and  powerfully  expressed,  that 
they  will  be  always  favorites  with  the  great  army  -of 
students,  a  regiment  of  whom  will  cross  this  globe  in 
every  generation  to  come ;  there  are  other  books  which 
will  be  searched  by  careful  students  for  a  few  important 


250  MORE  RAIN. 

ideas  amid  a  heap  of  verbiage.  At  this  period  of  the 
world,  there  is  still  room  enough  for  those  who  aim  to 
do  the  best  things.  It  is  not  true  that  every  genera 
tion  supplies  itself  with  its  own  books.  If  the  truth  is 
once  spoken  in  a  style  that  cannot  be  well  surpassed,  it 
will  stand.  Those  truths  which  pertain  to  the  interior 
life  of  the  soul  are  as  abiding  as  the  soul  itself ;  and  a 
book  that  is  very  rich  in  its  expressions  of  the  most 
vital  truth  will  live ;  how  long,  will  depend  on  its  style. 

"There  was  a  time  long  ages  since,  in  which  a  few 
writers  were  so  simple  minded  as  to  take  great  pains 
in  composition,  writing  again  and  again  the  same  mat 
ter,  spending  long  years  in  elaborating  small  books, 
and  we  are  glad  to  read  them  to-day;  while  many 
books,  which  have  thought  in  them  of  much  greater 
importance,  we  pile  in  the  dust  of  our  topmost  shelves, 
because  their  authors  were  careless  in  composition. 
He  who  is  careless  in  style  is  careless  of  posterity. 
By  this  test  it  can  be  easily  seen  how  many  writers  of 
this  age  will  live.  We  ask  at  first  whether  they  utter 
anything  worth  keeping  in  the  world  more  than  a  few 
days?  And  if  they  have  uttered  truths  of  permanent 
value,  we  ask  whether  their  words  are  sufficiently 
attractive  to  stand.  I  believe  that  there  are  many 
country  parsons  who  can,  if  they  will,  greatly  enlarge 
their  parishes  by  prayer  to  the  God  of  Wisdom,  by 
deep  searching  of  the  Word  from  heaven,  by  hard 
thinking  and  very  careful  writing. 

"Is  it  said  that  there  are  already  too  many  books  in 
the  world  ?     This  is  entirely  a  mistake ;  there  are  very 


MORE  RAIN.  251 

few  books  in  the  world.  For  one  or  two  thousand 
dollars,  there  can  be  bought  copies  of  all  the  books 
that  will  be  valuable  to  the  human  race  in  five  hundred 
years  from  now.  Many  more  will  be  valuable  to  the 
student  of  social  science ;  but  the  bulk  of  the  race  will 
care  nothing  for  them  in  their  present  form.  Men 
sometimes  bemoan  the  hard  lot  of  future  students,  as 
if  they  would  be  bound  to  read  any  considerable  part 
of  the  printed  and  bound  paper  that  now  sells  under 
the  name  of  literature.  Concerning  most  of  the  stuff, 
the  future  students  will  feel  much  as  we  do  respecting 
the  doings  of  the  creatures  that  crowded  the  globe 
before  Adam. 

There  is  competition  enough  in  making  'current 
literature,'  but  very  little  in  making  books  for  the 
future.  If  any  person  is  particularly  ambitious  in  this 
line,  the  way  is  open,  or  he  can  open  it.  He  will  not 
write  books  that  will  crowd  the  market,  or  make  him  a 
great  name;  but  he  may  secure  a  few  thoughtful 
readers  if  he  takes  pains  enough." 

"Well,  Cephas,"  said  I,  stepping  out  into  the  mud 
once  more,  "you  speak  as  though  a  man  could  sit 
down  in  a  very  business-like  manner,  and  say  to  him 
self, — '  Go  to,  let  us  manufacture  a  posthumous  reputa 
tion.  We  can  turn  out  immortal  books  if  we  plan  for 
it,  as  readily  as  our  neighbor  can  make  shoes.' 

"  Now  I  have  always  supposed  that  the  great  thinkers 
whose  works  will  stand  through  the  ages,  thought  little 
about  having  a  great  influence.  They  did  not  plan  for 
it,  any  more  than  Shakespeare  did ;  who  made  his  plays 


252  MORE  RAIN. 

to  get  a  living,  not  for  fame.  These  men  are  great 
because  they  were  born  so.  They  did  not  sit  down 
and  make  up  their  future  fame  as  my  grandmother  sits 
down  to  knit  stockings,  having  a  fixed  rule  for  turning 
the  heel  and  narrowing  at  the  toes." 

"  Neither,  my  friend,"  said  Cephas,  "  did  one  of  those 
gentlemen  sit  down  and  say  to  himself, — 'I  am  the. 
flower  and  fruit  of  all  the  ages.  The  centuries  have 
been  waiting  for  me.' 

"No,  Edward,  you  are  altogether  mistaken.  They 
did  not  plan  to  make  future  fame,  or  take  the  fame  for 
granted.  Every  day  they  fulfilled  their  round  of  life  as 
well  as  they  could.  The  conversations  in  Plato  were 
designed  for  influence  on  the  Athenians  in  that  hour ; 
and  all  the  skill  that  could  be  devised  was  used  by 
Socrates  in  the  market  and  in  shops.  No  man  was 
so  obscure  as  to  make  the  philosopher  forget  to  put 
forth  his  best  powers  in  conversing  with  him.  To  excel 
himself  in  conversing,  to  do  it  better  every  day  for  the 
sake  of  improving  the  men  around  him,  was  the  aim : 
and  no  man  on  the  globe  has  been .  found  equal  to 
him.  Or  if  any  one  has  been  skilled  as  he,  no  one  has 
been  exactly  like  him.  Every  mind  develops  according 
to  its  own  law  and  nature.  And  though  a  man's  best 
work  may  not  be  absolutely  the  best  in  the  world,  it 
may  be  the  best  of  that  kind;  and  may  therefore  be 
of  permanent  interest,  as  a  unique  mental  fruit.  What 
is  wanted,  is  that  a  man  should  have  diligence  in  his 
present  calling ;  and  make  the  most  of  it  by  incessant 
toil  and  every  attainable  help." 


MORE  RAIN.  253 

Just  then  we  stepped  over  a  wall  to  go  across  lots. 
We  were  soon  tangled  in  a  thicket  of  alders,  and  floun 
dering  in  the  swamp  from  which  they  sprang.  An  old 
hemlock  log  promised  firm  footing;  but  the  wet  moss 
and  rotten  outer  fibres  gave  way  when  Cephas  put  his 
foot  upon  it,  and  he  involuntarily  slipped  into  deep 
mud,  and  then  sat  down  upon  the  log.  And  I  sat 
down  beside  him.  Directly,  he  moved  to  one  end,  and 
I  to  the  other.  There  we  sat,  leaning  our  knapsack- 
encumbered-backs  against  some  of  the  large  alders. 
Taking  our  feet  out  of  the  mire,  and  planting  them  also 
upon  the  old  hemlock,  we  faced  each  other.  Then 
Cephas  began  again  to  read  aloud  what  was  written  in 
his  mind,  as  if  out  of  a  book. — 

"  I  don't  think,  Ned,  that  it  will  be  necessary  for  you 
to  write  many  books  in  order  to  become  immortal. 
Homer  is  not  voluminous.  The  fame  of  Demosthenes 
rests  upon  a  few  short  speeches,  which  will  never  cease 
to  be  models  for  all  mankind.  The  great  statesmen 
and  pleaders  of  recent  times  will  be  best  appreciated 
in  after  ages  by  a  few  orations  and  arguments.  The 
divines  whose  ideas  are  most  compact,  and  whose  style 
is  best  fitted  to  the  men  of  every  age,  will  live  in  small 
volumes. 

"  I  tell  you  frankly,  if  I  could  do  it,  I  would  make 
one  book  upon  a  topic  of  general  interest  to  all  stu 
dents  in  all  ages,  and  would  do  my  work  so  thoroughly 
in  matter  and  style  that  no  future  reader  on  that  sub 
ject  would  pass  it  by.  I  would  make  one  book,  which, 
like  the  magnetic  mountain  of  Arabian  story,  would 


254  MORE  RAIN. 

through  all  the  ages  draw  to  itself  the  ships  of  all  trav 
elers  that  pass  that  way.  But  I  am  in  perfect  despair 
of  attaining  such  power. 

"  In  my  despair,  however,  I  will  not  do  so  inconsid 
erate  a  thing  as  to  print  matter  whose  immaturity  in 
quality  and  style  is  sure  to  shock  me  after  a  twelve 
month.  You  sometimes  tell  me,  Ned,  that  you  must 
say  your  say  now  or  never.  But  the  world  can  wait  for 
you  to  think  it  over  a  little  more,  and  ^improve  your 
style.  Things  indifferent  can  be  said  as  well  one  time 
as  another.  What  relates  to  current  events  must  be 
said  in  the  moment, —  as  a  man  might  send  printed 
directions  to  his  boy  to  put  up  the  bars.  And  it  is  true 
that  one  may  get  some  reputation  for  hitting  the  nail 
on  the  head  in  printed  matter  on  current  topics,  and 
for  saying  pleasant  words  on  things  indifferent.  But 
he  who  is  looking  for  more  permanent  power  can  well 
afford  to  wait.  As  the  years  pass,  iniquity  will  still  pre 
vail  ;  and  a  strong  book  published  ten  years  hence  may 
be  better  than  a  feeble  book  published  today.  Satan  is 
more  offended  by  solid  shot  than  by  pith  balls. 

"  Print  when  you  get  ready ;  but  be  sure  that  you  are 
as  nearly  ready  as  you  can  reasonably  expect  to  be,  or 
that  the  exigencies  of  the  time  demand  your  extempore 
effort.  Hit  right  and  left  as  may  seem  wise  in  the 
battle  of  papers  and  magazines  and  books  today;  but 
as  to  future  fame,  if  that  is  what  you  want,  you  had 
better  think  little  about  it,  only  make  certain  to  concen 
trate  your  best  thinking  into  a  few  sentences,  and 
publish  little  and  late. 


MORE  RAIN.  255 

"One's  mind, is  not  likely  to  mature  so  perfectly  as  to 
leave  nothing  to  be  mended  as  the  years  advance. 
Keep  your  manuscripts  out  of  type  as  long  as  possible. 
You  may  get  new  light,  and  new  method  of  displaying 
it.  Jonathan  Edwards  and  Augustine  and  Luther,  I 
suspect,  laugh  or  even  weep,  today,  over  some  of  the  ex 
pressions  now  stereotyped  and  circulating  on  the  earth 
under  their  names.  Do  all  you  can  toward  mending 
your  papers,-r- lest  the  printers  shame  you,  age  after 
age  in  the  heavens.  If  the  glorified  saints  have  any 
work  to  do  as  ministering  spirits  in  this  world,  nearly 
half  the  business  of  some  of  them  must  be  in  stirring 
up  authors  to  controvert  the  books  said  saints  put  into 
print  while  in  the  flesh.  I  should  be  rather  ashamed 
of  you,  Edward,  if,  a  hundred  years  from  now,  you 
should  come  to  me,  and  say, — 

" '  Cephas,  Cephas,  I  wish  you  would  go  down  to 
the  coast  of  Cape  Anne,  and  get  somebody  to  print  a 
book  in  opposition  to  the  bad  theology  and  worse  logic 
and  intolerable  rhetoric  which  I  printed  when  I  was 
pastor  in  those  parts;  and  which  I  see  is  still  quoted 
by  some  of  my  few  admirers.' 

"No,  Edward,  I  advise  you  to  keep  out  of  print  all 
you  can.  You  may  want  to  controvert  your  own  opin 
ions,  modify  your  statements,  and  certainly  to  mend 
your  style,  from  four  hundred  to  a  thousand  times 
before  you  die.  Don't  print.  Don't." 

"  I  wont,  if  you'll  emigrate,"  said  I,  rising,  stretching 
my  legs  and  adjusting  my  pack,  ready  for  another 
heroic  struggle  to  get  out  of  the  alder  swamp.  But  in 


256  MORE  RAIN. 

my  attempt  to  cross  a  sluggish  brook  on  stepping 
stones,  a  little  further  on,  I  slipped  and  went  into  the 
water  over  my  rubber  boots.  Cephas  stood  upon  the 
bank  beyond,  philosophizing  thus  :  — 

"  Most  students  are  launched  into  the  seething  cur 
rent  of  life  before  they  are  educated.  They  do  not, 
after  that,  get  time  to  extend  the  range  of  their  studies. 
Perhaps  a  pastor  is  a  pithy  paragraph  writer  for  news 
papers  ;  and  he  may  do  vast  good  in  that  way.  But 
the  hours  are  passing,  and  life  itself  will  soon  slip 
away ;  and  the  preacher  is  yet  ignorant  of  a  great 
range  of  studies  which  might  aid  him  in  sermon  mak 
ing.  He  who  will  secure  the  most  permanent  power 
must  be  willing  to  forego  the  more  transient.  The  ser 
mon  maker  has  enough  to  do:  let  others  do  their 
work  —  the  work  needed  for  the  current  wants  of  the 
reading  world";  there  are  enough  who  can  do  it,  and  do 
it  well,  and  who  will  never  do  his  work:  the  sermon 
maker  must  stand  to  his  guns,  let  who  will  fire  squibs 
and  pistols,  and  do  sharp  shooting.  Let  him  learn  all 
the  good  gifts  of  style,  and  put  his  best  thoughts  into 
shape  for  his  people.  If  they  are  worthy,  the  printers 
and  readers  will  be  glad  of  his  papers  when  he  has 
done  his  best  to  perfect  them." 

All  that  afternoon  and  early  evening  we  talked. 
Cephas  told  me  more  than  I  had  known  concerning  his 
pigeon  holes  and  plans  of  study ;  of  his  entering  upon 
long  years  of  toil  in  definite  lines  of  work.  I  could 
see,  however,  that  he  did  not  rely  mainly  upon  any  un- 


MORE  RAIN.  257 

couth  cramming  process,  or  upon  his  increasing  skill  in 
composition.  His  mind  was  fixed  upon  gaining  the 
highest  possible  power  by  the  inspiring  presence  of 
God  in  all  his  studies. 

Cephas'  notions  of  sermon  making  were  not  all  con 
formed  to  the  Blair  or  Edwardean  models.  He  meant 
by  the  word  sermon  merely  an  interesting  and  effective 
talk  on  religion.  Bound  to  make  such  talks  interesting 
anyhow,  he  worked  in  all  the  religion  he  could  on  that 
basis.  The  short  fragmentary  treatment  of  Christian 
themes  in  the  pulpit  fell  so  far  short  of  the  dignity 
of  complete  treatises  that  my  friend  preferred  to  call 
them  mere  talks.  I  do  not  know  but  his  ideal  of  ser 
mon  making  was  to  have  thoroughly  live  conversations 
on  religion ;  to  use  the  dramatic  form  and  every  form 
possible  to  catch  men's  attention,  and  keep  it,  and 
to  enforce  the  truth.  He  dwelt  much  on  the  Bible 
style  of  presenting  religious  themes, —  doctrinal  ser 
mons  like  the  book  of  Romans  rarely,  but  doctrine 
everywhere,  in  every  shape,  whether  biography,  history, 
poetry,  type,  drama,  epistle,  or  anecdote.  With  this 
wide  definition  of  the  sermon,  he  believed  sermon 
making  a  good  business  to  be  in  for  preparing  the  best 
kind  of  literature.  The  work  of  so  presenting  religious 
truth  to  the  common  mind  as  to  make  it  thoroughly 
attractive  as  well  as  quickening,  is  a  work  worthy  the 
highest  ambition  for  literary  distinction;  offering  due 
reward  to  those  who  desire  large  influence  in  meeting 
the  highest  wants  of  man. 

To  make  sermons  sound  on  natural  science  and 
10 


258  MORE  RAIN. 

social  questions  as  well  as  on  theology ;  warm  with  the 
love  of  God  to  man ;  with  quick  sympathy  for  all  that 
is  human ;  fervid  in  claiming  man's  repentance  and 
faith, —  this  kind  of  work  is  of  unsurpassed  dignity  ; 
and  in  it  the  pastor  may  advance  to  the  very  first  rank 
of  literary  power.  To  imbue  sermons  with  the  greatest 
degree  of  merit  in  range,  substance,  structure,  and 
style,  is  to  do  much  toward  putting  into  the  world  a 
distinctive  religious  literature,  which  will  carry  the  day 
against  all  antagonist  writings.  If  unbelief  makes 
good  use  of  the  pen,  it  is  a  standing  scandal  upon  our 
faith  if  Christian  themes  cannot  be  thoroughly  popu 
larized  in  print.  And  while  it  is  true  that  religious 
writings  are  —  beyond  all  comparison  —  popularly  in 
the  lead  of  those  distinctly  irreligious,  yet  the  making 
of  first  class  Christian  literature,  which  will  abide 
through  the  ages,  is  a  work  not  overdone. 

When  Cephas  came  round  again  to  this  point  that 
the  field  is  still  open,  I  could  see,  by  his  tone,  intensity 
of  speech  and  kindling  eye,  that  he  had  some  hope, 
by  forty  years  of  hard  toiling  and  praying,  he  might  be 
useful  to  some  who  should  come  after  him. 

"  Posthumous  influence !  "  quoth  he,  "  not  a  bad  thing 
to  dream  about  after  all, —  to  dream  about,  while  work 
ing  to  the  utmost  for  one's  own  people  today." 

This  was  said  by  the  roaring  fire  we  had  made  at  the 
side  of  a  big  boulder  on  top  of  Mount  Anne.  We 
were  shut  off  from  the  wind ;  the  storm  was  abating ; 
and  we  had  dried  a  sufficient  space  to  make  ourselves 
comfortable  under  the  shelter  we  had  erected. 


MORE  RAIN.  259 

At  this  particular  point  I  heard  a  cracking  in  the 
bushes  at  our  backs,  and  a  deep  bass  sound  like  that 
of  an  Indian, — 

"  Ugh ! " 

Turning  that  way,  I  saw,  disentangling  himself  from 
a  thicket,  the  huge  frame  of  the  Houlton  Giant. 

I  dreaded  him  more  than  any  man  in  Essex  county. 
For,  in  the  first  place,  he  was  the  greatest  tramp  in  the 
country.  His  bill  for  shoe  leather  exceeded  all  his 
other  family  expenses.  With  him,  I  was  a  snail.  He 
was  always  stirring  me  up  to  go  somewhere,  and  to  go 
quickly.  Many  a  time  he  has  taken  me  out  of  a  quiet 
parlor,  merely  to  sit  in  the  sun  on  a  hot  day,  in  the 
midst  of  dust  intolerable,  overlooking  some  dirty  back 
street  in  an  unclean  city.  He  could  not  be  easy  to  sit 
down  to  converse  in  a  house.  If  I  walked  with  him 
by  the  side  of  the  sea,  he  would,  as  soon  as  we  were 
comfortably  seated  upon  some  promontory,  at  once  rise 
and  suggest  that  we  walk  to  another  headland  half  a 
mile  off,  and  he  would  not  be  easy  until  I  moved ;  and 
he  would  not  be  easy  then. 

Plodding  upon  his  farm,  and  caring  for  his  hens  and 
cow  and  cosset,  or  tramping  through  the  country,  he 
had  ideas  of  the  order  of  Webster  and  Milton,  the  well- 
proportioned  mind  of  the  one  and  the  poetic  fancy  of 
the  other.  I  can  never  express  the  wonder  with  which 
I  looked  upon  that  man.  If  he  had  been  trained  in 
the  schools,  and  been  placed  in  a  social  position  call 
ing  out  his  energies,  I  believe  he  would  have  filled  the 
world  with  his  fame.  He  was  content  to  live  nobly ; 


260  MORE  RAIN. 

and  his  life  was  to  me  the  finest  poem  in  the  world,  his 
simple  piety  to  me  more  eloquent  than  all  preachers. 
He  imparted  a  certain  dignity  to  the  every  day  employ 
ments  of  life.  When  he  was  doing  chores  about  his 
place,  he  said  he  sometimes  thought  this  was  what  he 
was  for.  He  believed  this  was  the  way  the  old  prophets 
did :  they  moved  about  their  land,  tilling  the  soil,  and 
working  with  oxen ;  and  when  they  spoke  for  God,  it 
was  to  them  a  burden  to  be  lifted  and  borne,  the  bur 
den  of  the  Lord.  With  his  long  flowing  black  hair,  he 
seemed  like  a  veritable  prophet.  I  could  hardly  bear 
it  to  be  with  this  man  ;  he  so  shamed  me  in  my  low 
plane  of  living.  When  his  full  eyes  fastened  upon  me 
I  thought  nothing  in  my  soul  could  be  concealed. 

This  night  was  one  of  his  nights  of  power;  and  it 
was  as  if  Mount  Anne  had  become  Olympus.  The 
writings  of  the  noblest  men,  he  had  upon  his  tongue's 
end ;  and  yet  there  was  nothing  unworthy  in  his  speech. 
The  words  of  Plato  and  Milton  did  not  seem  so  much 
quotations,  as  the  natural  expression  of  his  own 
thoughts;  and  his  spirit  was  habitually  dwelling  in 
that  region  where  he  had  the  best  of  earth  for  his  com 
panions.  We  had  an  ambrosial  night.  A  little  before 
daybreak  he  walked  away  into  the  darkness;  and  I 
never  saw  him  again.  He  perished  by  the  fall  of  a 
tower  in  a  foreign  country.  ' 


MOUNT  ANNE.  261 


XXII. 
MOUNT   ANNE. 

ROUSING  up  early  in  the  morning  under  a  clear 
sky,  I  turned  over  upon  my  hard  bed,  saying,  — 
"According  to  your  method,  Cephas,  Milton 
might  have  tinkered  on  Paradise  Lost  till  this  time,  and 
he  never  would  have  been  done.  For  my  part  I  am 
glad  he  published  it  in  his  life  time,  before  it  was  per 
fected  to  death  and  all  the  inspiration  taken  out  of  it. 
I  believe  with  Carlyle,  that  while  no  one  can  make  a 
mathematical  square,  yet  any  respectable  carpenter  can 
make  one  that  is  square  enough.  I  don't  believe  in  this 
filing  away  all  your  life  on  a  few  sermons." 

"Well,  I  do  suppose,"  said  Cephas,  yawning,  "that 
if  the  stupids  who  cleaned  up  Milton's  house  after  he 
was  dead,  had  found  the  unpublished  manuscript  of 
Paradise  Lost,  they  would  have  tucked  it  into  the  ash 
hole ;  and  the  noblest  devil  who  ever  trod  this  earth 
would  have  smothered  there,  if  a  printer's  devil  had  not 
happened  to  pull  him  out.  Four-legged  vermin,  hunt 
ing  after  a  bone  in  that  dark  hole,  would  have  taken 
those  lines,  — 

'  Hail  holy  Light,'  &c. 
and  made  them  into  a  mouse  nest." 


262  MOUNT  ANNE. 

"  If  you  don't  print  before  you  die,"  I  answered,  "  I'll 
take  your  pigeon  holes,  and  sell  them  for  dove  cotes. 
One  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  bits  of  paper,  which 
you  call  ideas,  I  will  tie  up  into  kite  tails,  and  ship 
them  to  China,  where  everybody  raises  a  kite  once  a 
year." 

"That  is  all  they  would  be  fit  for,  if  I  should  print 
them  now,"  said  Cephas.  "  What  is  the  use  of  my 
offering  to  tract  societies  material  that  ought  to  go  up 
on  the  next  high  wind  ?  If  I  can't  reduce  my  rag  paper 
to  pulp,  and  make  fair  pages  out  of  it,  I  am  content  you 
should  take  my  sermons,  and  furnish  all  the  boys  in 
creation  with  stuff  for  steering  kites." 

"  I  have  noticed,  Cephas,"  I  answered,  "  that  the 
immortal  speeches  and  writings  of  former  times  have 
been  for  immediate  use.  I  never  heard  that  any  part 
of  Milton's- prose  works,  or  that  the  speeches  of  Demos 
thenes  were  made  for  posterity.  There  was  present 
business  to  be  done.  '  Glittering  generalities  '  do  not 
make  up  well  for  coming  generations.  If  you  don't 
strike  hard  and  hot  in  the  present  living  issues,  your 
blows  will  never  echo  down  the  aisles  of  the  future. 
Unless  the  men  of  this  age  feel  your  power,  the  next 
age  will  not  care  whether  you  left  any  unpublished 
manuscripts." 

"  Whew !  whew  !  "  was  the  only  reply  I  heard.  Look 
ing  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  I  saw  the  posthumous 
fame  man  blowing  at  a  mosquito;  which  was  trying 
hard  to  effect  an  entrance  into  the  breathing  hole 


MOUNT  ANNE.  263 

Cephas  had  left  in  his  bed-covering.  It  is  vexatious 
that  minds  panting  after  immortality  should  become 
victims  to  the  contemptible  details  of  bodily  conve 
nience.  But  that  musical  vampire  took  off  our  atten 
tion,  and  we  thought  nothing  more  of  posthumous  fame 
till  after  breakfast. 

I  kindled  the  fire,  and  Cephas  made  spruce  tea  to 
soak  our  hard  bread,  and  cooked  eggs  in  a  birch  bark 
kettle.  We  then  went  strolling  about  the  bald  head  of 
Mount  Anne.  I  placed  my  feet  in  the  hoof-prints  made 
by  some  gigantic  horse  of  former  ages ;  deciphered  the 
lettering  inscribed  in  the  register  of  this  out-door  hotel ; 
examined  the  marks  left  by  the  coast  survey ;  and  then 
looked  at  the  leaves  just  below  the  crest  as  they  glis 
tened  in  the  sunlight.  'I  imagined  how  the  forest 
would  look  when  maple,  beech,  and  oak  put  on  their 
gay  colors,  in  the  midst  of  sober  evergreens,  with  soli 
tary  crags  showing  their  heads  among  the  tree  tops. 

On  either  hand,  in  the  distance,  were  seen  vast 
tracts  of  pine.  Northeast,  the  view  stretches  away  to 
Pigeon  Hill,  and  the  highlands  back  of  Rockport ;  and, 
on  the  south,  to  the  high  crown  of  the  hill  at  Norman's 
Woe,  and  the  naked  ridges  back  of  Magnolia.  South 
west  and  west,  the  forest  hides  all  the  country  toward 
Wenham  and  Beverly.  The  Blue  Hills,  and  the  heights 
of  Stoneham  and  Lexington,  rise  in  the  distance. 
More  dimly,  further  west  and  northwest,  appear  Wa- 
chusett,  Monadnock,  the  hills  of  Francestown,  and  the 
Uncanoonucks,  with  a  wide  area  of  intervening  coun 
try.  Turning  toward  the  sea,  the.  coast  line  can  be 


264  MOUNT  ANNE. 

followed  from  Maine  to  the  south  shore  of  Massachu 
setts  Bay. 

"Did  you  ever  make  a  careful  estimate,"  I  asked, 
turning  to  Cephas,  "  of  the  immense  number  of  squir 
rels  and  woodchucks  and  rattlesnakes  this  area  of  for 
est  is  capable  of  sustaining?" 

"  No,"  he  answered.  "  But  I  have  here  in  my  pocket, 
a  very  careful  estimate  of  the  number  of  the  genus  homo 
the  western  hemisphere  will  support;  and  it  is  just 
thirty-six  hundred  millions.  And  I  have  also  the  docu 
ments  which  show  that,  in  a  hundred  years  from  now, 
more  than  eight  hundred  millions  of  people  will  •  be 
speaking  the  English  language.  And  while  I  have  no 
idea  that  more  than  four  hundred  millions  of  them  will 
care  anything  about  reading* my  posthumous  works, — 
yet  I  have  concluded  to  do  all  I  can  to  make  my  writ 
ings  so  good,  that  every  well-regulated  family  will  want 
them  in  the  house.  I  kept  awake  an  hour  after  you 
went  to  sleep  last  night,  thinking  how  I  could  write 
something  so  interesting  as  to  keep  the  young  folks  of 
the  next  generation  sitting  up  nights  to  read  my  books. 

"  Did  you  never  stop  in  the  midst  of  all  your  parish 
cares,  and  dream  about  the  populations  which  will 
crowd  the  continents  of  the  future?  Steam  power  and 
water  power  will  everywhere  drive  the  wheels  of  indus 
try.  And  who  will  set  up  thinking  mills?  Factories 
are  not  common  for  making  "A.  i.  Extra  Finish" 
books.  A  good  part  of  the  finish  is  put  into  the  paper 
and  binding." 

"The   streams   on   which   most   thinking    mills   are 


MOUNT  ANNE.  265 

erected,"  I  replied,  "  are  not  equal  to  more  than  one  or 
two  horse  power,  and  dry  half  the  year  at  that.  You 
talk  as  though  a  man  could  go  into  the  business,  much 
as  he  would  make  shingles." 

Cephas  drew  from  his  pocket  a  copy  of  the  Psalms, 
and  pointed  me  to  the  text, — "All  my  springs  are  in 
Thee." 

"He  who  builds  on  this,  will  never  fail,"  was  the 
comment.  "  Unless  a  mill  is  built  hard  by  the  Divine 
resources,  and  is  driven  by  the  very  power  of  the  High 
est,  little  success  can  be  counted  on." 

"Can  you  count  on  certain  success  in  this  way?"  1 
asked.  "  Only  think  how  many  pious  blockheads  have 
lumbered  up  the  shelves  of  libraries.  Here  is  an 
appeal  now,  for  more  m'oney  to  build  more  roof,  to 
keep  more  of  their  books  from  perishing  by  exposure 
to  the  weather  on  the  street  stalls  of  the  venders  of 
unsalable  books.  Libraries  are  warehouses  for  gather 
ing  papermakers'  stock,  never  to  be  utilized.  And  you 
will  work  day  and  night  all  your  life,  and  dream  of 
fame, —  merely  to  add  a  couple  of  pounds  weight  to  the 
heavy  material,  that  is  already  bending  the  long  shelves 
in  the  theological  attic  of  some  big  library.  For  my 
part  I  would  rather  be  a  tramp,  and  wear  out  sole 
leather." 

Cephas  seemed  to  fall  in  readily  with  this  last  sug 
gestion.  We  accordingly  rolled  up  our  luggage,  shoul 
dered  the  packs,  and  started  for  Coffin's  beach.  On 
our  way^  Cephas  was  full  of  missionary  talk ;  he  was 
looking,  day  by  day,  for  some  providence  which  would 


266  MOUNT  ANNE. 

take  him  out  of  New  England.  To  work  in  the  border 
country,  to  help  mould  the  life  of  new  states  and  terri 
tories,  was  what  he  was  always  sighing  for.  And  yet 
his  health  was  so  wretched,  that  he  had  to  abstain  from 
very  intense  work  in  his  own  parish,  and  from  all  out 
side  labor  in  the  way  of  church  activities  and  social 
reform.  He  had  to  tread  an  even  path  to  live  out  his 
years. 

"  Some  days,"  he  said,  "  I  pray  for  a  compensation 
for  all  my  bodily  infirmities.  As  Samson  of  old 
prayed, — 'O  Lord,  avenge  me  of  mine  eyes,' — I  ask, — 

" '  O  Lord,  avenge  me  of  my  body :  as  I  would  have 
been  a  home  missionary,  make  my  books  missionaries, 
to  be  read  in  many  homes  on  the  border :  as  I  would 
have  worked  most  intensely  for  the  spiritual  good  of 
many  people,  allowing  no  rest  day  nor  night  till  they 
should  be  born  anew  in  Christ  Jesus;  so.  make  my 
printed  sermons  powerful  for  the  salvation  of  men.' — 

"I  confess,  however,  that  I  expect  little  in  this  direc 
tion.  I  can  not  make  this  prayer  in  faith.  It  is  only 
an  aspiration  by  which  I  relieve  my  mind,  in  hours  of 
earnest  struggling  with  my  fate. 

"Yet  I  cannot  help  envying  that  New  England 
pastor,  who  will  by  his  writings  preach  over  against 
Buddha  and  Confucius  in  their  own  countries.  'Dod- 
dridge's  Rise  and  Progress'  is  leading  men  to  God  in 
Armeno-Turkish.  Every  man  to  his  work:  some  are 
going  forth  to  conquer  the  continents  for  Christ ;  some 
are  sitting  in  quiet  studies  preparing  a  literature,  which 
will  be  read  by  every  Christian  people. 


MOUNT  ANNE.  267 

"  Ned,  did  you  never  go  into  the  woods  to  lie  down, 
and  weep  and  pray  for  the  descent  of  the  Quickening 
Spirit  upon  distant  islands  and  dark  populations?  If 
you  have,  and  if  you  must  nurse  your  body  most  care 
fully  day  by  day,  you  know  what  it  is  to  be  consumed 
with  longing  for  so  much  skill  in  writing,  as  will  make 
your  words  a  missionary  force  after  your  hand  has 
crumbled  in  dust." 

Little  by  little,  as  we  made  our  way  over  the  narrow 
road,  I  was  made  acquainted  with  my  friend's  inner 
life,  as  I  had  not  known  it  before.  With  unutterable 
desire  he  was  now  living  mainly  for  one  purpose. 
Despairing  of  going  forth  himself  to  mingle  in  the 
world's  wide  battle,  he  was  doing  as  well  as  he  could 
in  his  quiet  parish ;  but  all  the  energy  he  could  put  to 
it  was  given  to  careful  writing, —  primarily  to  meet  the 
wants  of  his  own  people  and  not  without  hope  that 
some  of  his  pages  might  find  their  way  into  missionary 
fields. —  In  the  bright  dawning  of  the  days  of  peace 
just  before  us,  a  warm  and  glowing  Christian  literature 
will  find  an  increasing  number  of  readers ;  and  is  it 
folly  to  pray  that  one's  words  may  go  forth  to  the  ends 
of  the  world,  and  be  read  by  distant  generations  of 
men  ? —  It  is  wise  at  least  to  lead  so  noble  a  life  that 
holy  men,  coming  after,  may  not  be  ashamed  of  our 
memory. —  In  such  talk  we  whiled  away  the  journey. 
To  write  books  for  boys,  to  make  the  truth  attractive 
to  young  men,  was  claimed  to  be  the  best  business  in 
this  world. 

"  If  I  could  write  books  which  would  reach  thought- 


268  MOUNT  ANNE. 

ful  lads  and  lasses  of  fourteen  and  sixteen,  I  would  not 
exchange  influence  with  any  one,"  said  Cephas,  just  as 
we  began  to  feel  the  hard  floor  of  the  beach  under  our 
feet.  "When  you  were  a  child,  inquiring  the  way  of 
life  and  darkly  stumbling,  you  know  the  books  that 
seized  upon  you  with  strong  hand.  I  remember  your 
first  contact  with  John  Foster;  and  the  curious  subtle 
though tfulness  of  a  nameless  writer,  so  obscure  and 
unpractical  that  he  has  had  no  readers, —  and  yet 
whose  two  hundred  pages  gave  a  new  turn  to  your  life. 
Future  Franklins  will  rise,  ready  to  confess  the  mould 
ing  power  of  simple  essays,  like  those  of  Cotton 
Mather.  Large  minded  boys  may  be  led  to  higher 
aspirations  and  broader  sympathies  by  unpretending 
books.  To  aid  in  forming  the  character  of  one  noble 
child  is  worth  a  life  time  of  labor.  To  leave  such  an 
endowment  for  young  men  is  like  founding  colleges. 
An  idea  is  a  thing  of  life,  to  grow  when  your  body  is  in 
the  dust,  to  flourish  when  your  memory  has  passed 
away,  to  rise  daily  with  new  vigor  after  the  decay  of 
many  a  generation." 

After  crossing  the  ferry  to  Squam,  we  walked  down 
the  rocky  ridge  toward  Bayview,  and  struck  through  the 
woods  to  Pigeon  Cove.  All  that  day,  we  talked  on 
such  themes  as  made  that  walk  most  memorable  in  my 
own  mental  history. 

My  work  today,  in  writing  this  chapter,  finds  me  at 
Pigeon  Cove,  within  a  few  rods  of  the  place  where  we 
slept  that  night.  We  were  in  a  field  on  the  brink 
of  the  rock  bound  shore.  I  am  sitting  in  the  shadow 


MOUNT  ANNE.  269 

of  a  brine  washed  ledge  with  my  feet  just  above  the 
still  waters.  In  my  portfolio  I  find  certain  papers  in 
Cephas'  handwriting,  which  are,  properly,  the  contin 
uation  of  the  talk  we  had  that  day. 

"  It  is  no  small  part  of  my  regular  business,  day  by 
day,  to  go  into  deep  solitude  that  I  may  plead  with 
God  and  study  the  Word, —  if  by  such  means  I  may 
gain  the  heavenly  wisdom,  and  know  the  secret  places 
of  power.  Is  it  a  vain  thing  that  I  have  shed  so  many 
tears  over  the  map  and  over  God's  Word,  as  I  have 
been  crying  mightily  unto  Him  upon  great  rocks  in 
wide  forests,  in  secluded  valleys,  upon  mountain  slopes, 
and  by  the  side  of  the  sea?  When  I  have  been  pray 
ing  for  my  people,  and  for  pagans,  and  for  the  unborn 
populations  of  the  world,  I  have  dared  to  desire  to  do 
something  to  bring  in  the  kingdom, —  even  though  it  be 
only  to  condense  my  life  purposes  into  a  few  words, 
which  may  act  as  seed  thoughts  in  the  minds  of  a  hand 
ful  of  young  men  in  after  times,  that  through  them  I 
may  gain  some  friends  for  Christ  in  later  ages  of  the 
world.  If  by  thirty  or  forty  years  of  labor  and  un 
ceasing  supplication  for  wisdom  and  power,  I  could 
write  one  or  two  books  which  wide  awake  lads  would 
read  *  *  *  ." 

Here  ends  the  paper.  I  find  by  such  memoranda, 
that  hours  together  were  spent  in  pleading  with  God 
upon  the  topics  here  indicated.  Cephas'  studies  were 
carried  on  in  the  secret  places  of  prayer ;  as  if  from  the 
very  shadow  of  the  Almighty  were  to  go  forth  his 
appeals  to  his  own  people  and  all  whom  he  might 


270  MOUNT  ANNE. 

reach.  He  hoped  that  the  Lord  might  use  him,  and 
allow  him  to  speak  more  wisely  than  he  knew,  half 
unconscious  of  the  glory  of  the  message. 

"What  may  we  not  look  for,"  says  this  note  book, 
"in  our  new  alliance  with  Jehovah?  He  who  walks 
with  God  walks  in  the  way  of  unusual  power.  The 
solitary  places  of  our  country  parishes  may  be  made 
glad  by  revelations  from  on  High.  Hill-side  paths  or 
homely  pastures;  tangled  woodlands  and  wild  mead 
ows  ;  dreary  walks  on  prairies  or  amid  the  corn  lands 
and  grazing  fields,  or  under  the  hay  stacks, —  may  be 
the  places  where  God  will  show  His  truth  to  his  own 
chosen,  and  where,  from  day  to  day,  may  rise,  with  un 
speakable  earnestness,  the  prayer  of  the  psalmist, —  O 
God,  forsake  me  not;  until  I  have  shewed  thy  strength 
unto  this  generation,  thy  power  to  every  one  that  is  to 
come." 

If  the  phantom  of  future  fame  flitted  at  times  before 
the  eyes  of  my  friend,  he  followed  it  nobly,  seeking 
to  walk  in  a  strength  not  his  own. 


MOQUELUMNE  HILL.  271 


XXIII. 
MOQUELUMNE    HILL. 

Spring  following   our   Mount  Anne  bivouac, 
Cephas  was  invited  to  labor  in  California,  under 
•*•       circumstances  which  gave  him  strong  hope  that 
he  could  stand  to  it.     He  had  been  suffering  a  great 
deal  from  nervous  difficulties ;  and  he  proposed  spend 
ing  some  months  in  the   Sierra  before  taking  up  his 
new  work. 

In  the  autumn  I  also  went  to  California,  and  re 
mained  there  a  part  of  the  winter.  When  I  arrived, 
Cephas  had  not  yet  returned  from  the  mountains.  Lit 
tle  had  been  heard  from  him.  His  health,  at  the  first 
seemed  to  improve  •  although  he  had  alluded  to  some 
bad  symptoms  about  his  head.  Still,  his  friends  were 
confidently  looking  forward  to  his  speedy  return.  My 
business  took  me  into  the  hill  country.  Within  a  week, 
I  had  the  misfortune  to  sprain  my  ankle,  in  jumping  a 
fence  ;  and  then  made  it  the  worse  by  an  enforced 
horseback  ride  of  ten  miles  after  the  accident.  I  was, 
therefore,  laid  up  several  weeks ;  and  found  in  a  Chris 
tian  home  in  Moquelumne  Hill  a  refuge  so  comfortable 
that  I  was  glad  to  be  an  invalid. 


272  MOQUELUMNE  HILL. 

My  time  was  divided  between  writing,  showering  my 
foot,  lying  down  on  a  board  in  the  sunny  garden,  tend 
ing  my  landlady's  baby,  and  assisting  a  little  at  the 
sink,  from  which  place,  however,  I  was  discharged  as 
incompetent. 

With  one  crutch  and  a  hoe  handle,  I  managed  to 
hobble  about  among  the  neighbors,  devouring  sundry 
turkey  dinners,  which  were  quite  the  rage  all  the  sea 
son.  I  was  equal  to  this  business. 

Moreover,  upon  three  legs,  I  climbed  all  the  smaL 
hills  about  the  village.  There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the 
sky  for  thirty  days,  and  this  in  the  season  for  rain  fall. 
Living  out  of  doors  was  a  constant  delight. 

One  day  I  ascended  a  peak  on  the  east  of  the  town. 
If  I  remember  aright,  the  sides  of  the  hill  had  been 
badly  torn  by  miners ;  but  the  top  was  a  paradise  of 
fine  pictures.  The  south  overlooks  the  rough  backs  of 
twenty  miles  of  hills,  rolling  like  the  ocean  in  tempest ; 
and  on  the  horizon  stretch  the  flat  tops  of  table  moun 
tains.  On  the  north,  close  beneath  me,  a  sharp  slope 
runs  down  eight  hundred  feet  to  the  bed  of  the  Moque- 
lumne  river;  and  across  the  stream  rises  a  bank  as 
sharp.  Beyond  this  canon,  Bute  mountain  rears  its 
round  head  eighteen  hundred  feet  from  the  river  bot 
tom.  Around  the  side  of  the  Bute  stretches  a  water 
ditch  for  the  gold  miners ;  reaching  out  northwest  for 
three-fourths  of  a  mile,  upon  timbers  from  twenty  to 
eighty  feet  high.  Turning  westward,  the  foot  hills  sink 
into  the  broad  Sacramento  valley ;  which  upon  that 
day  was  full  of  fog,  shining  like  white  feathery  bil- 


MOQUELUMNE  HILL.  273 

lows  under  the  clear  and  brilliant  afternoon  sun. 
Across  that  cloudy  sea,  a  hundred  miles  away,  Mount 
Diabolus  and  the  Coast  Range  peaks  lift  their  heads 
island-like  out  of  the  mist ;  and  the  waves  of  vapor  roll 
on  toward  sunset.  Toward  the  east  the  eye  looks  over 
fifty  miles  of  mountain  tops,  as  if  over  the  roughest  sea 
of  solid  waves ;  and  in  the  extreme  distance  the  Sierra 
Nevada  chain  rises  with  many  sharp,  shining  points, 
whose  snows  glitter  in  the  western  sun,  like  the  battle 
ments  of  Eden,  or  some  New  Jerusalem  let  down  upon 
the  earth. 

Sheets  of  grass  land,  and  gigantic  clumps  of  trees 
upon  the  upper  part  of  the  northern  slope  of  the  hill 
offered  an  inviting  place  of  rest ;  so  that  I  lay  down 
near  the  crest,  and  began  straightway  to  dream.  The 
first  thing  I  concluded  was  to  name  this  peak  Jennie's 
Mountain.  Then  I  thought  of  Helen  and  the  lone 
grave  on  the  crag.  My  mind  turned  next  to  him 
who  had  spent  so  much  time  with  me  on  the  sounding 
shore  of  Cape  Anne, —  wandering  as  I  supposed  at 
that  very  hour  somewhere  among  the  foot-hills  of  the 
Sierra.  And  then  I  thought  over  the  strange  story 
of  my  contact  with  his  pursuer  in  the  Essex  woods 
and  on  the  coast.  I  tried  to  recall  his  features. 

Raising  my  eyes  suddenly,  I  saw  the  man  under  a 
tree  only  a  few  rods  down  the  slope.  There  was  the 
detective  standing  and  gazing  upon  me  !  He  wore  the 
same  old  cut  of  drab  cloth,  and  the  wide  hat.  I 
marked  the  same  breadth  of  shoulder  and  chest,  and 
well-knit  frame.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  little  book; 


274  MOQUELUMNE  HILL. 

and  in  the  other  a  dirty  pipe,  which  he  put  to  his 
mouth  when  our  eyes  met.  His  face  seemed  harder 
than  two  or  three  years  before. 

Filled  with  an  undefinable  dread,  yet  with  a  sense  of 
the  necessity  of  finding  out  his  exact  errand,  I  put  on 
my  best  humor, — 

"Halloo,  there,  I  thought  you  broke  your  pipe  on 
the  Forty-foot  Boulder." 

"I  did,"  he  answered  with  a  complete  change  of 
countenance,  and  the  most  winning  eye  and  voice. 
"And  if  you  still  hate  tobacco,  I'll  break  it  again,  if 
you'll  come  down  here  to  chat  a  little." 

Advancing,  he  pointed  to  the  smouldering  remains 
of  a  camp  fire,  under  an  outcropping  rock  in  the  shade 
of  a  wide-spreading  tree.  The  spot  looked  so  home 
like,  that  I  wondered  I  had  not  noticed  it  before,  half 
concealed  as  it  was  by  a  bunch  of  shrubs. 

"I  thought  you  had  once  vowed  to  give  up  your 
small  vices,"  said  I,  drawing  near  with  awkward  steps. 

"I  gave  up  vows  and  took  vices  again  after  I  left 
you.  I  decided  to  follow  a  course  I  knew  to  be 
wrong." 

"  Are  you  still  following  it  ?  " 

"  Sit  down  ;  and  we  will  talk.  I  have  seen  no  man 
smile  for  many  a  month." 

We  sat  beside  the  fire,  and  began  to  talk.  When  he 
found  that  I  felt  kindly,,  sympathizing  with  him,  recog 
nizing  his  better  nature,  that  I  could  be  his  brother 
morally,  I  soon  drew  forth  his  story  since  we  parted  on 
board  ship  in  Boston. 


MOQUELUMNE  HILL.  .        275 

He  had  grown  to  be  much  better  and  much  worse ; 
both  the  good  and  the  evil  in  him  becoming  stronger 
and  fiercely  contending,  one  now  the  victor,  then  the 
other.  According  to  his  own  account,  he  had  seasons 
of  intense  wickedness ;  and  then  would  try  to  amend 
his  life.  His  small  vices,  he  said,  had  been  resumed ; 
and  they  had  grown  upon  him  in  his  last  months  in 
London.  Under  their  dominion  his  higher  aspirations 
had  slumbered,  and  he  was  more  than  ever  fitted  for  ill 
deeds.  Cowley's  line, — 

"God  the  first  garden  made,  and  the  first  city  Cain," 

expressed  his  idea  of  the  demoralizing  influence  of  city 
life. 

"But  did  not  Cain  kill  his  brother  in  the  country?"  I 
asked. 

He  started  suddenly,  as  if  he  saw  an  ill  vision, —  and 
looked  searchingly  into  my  eyes ;  but  seeing  me  quiet 
as  usual  —  although  I  was  surprised  at  his  manner,  he 
calmly  answered,  after  a  moment's  hesitation  : 

"It  is,  I  suppose,  one's  own  moral  purpose,  which 
makes  city  or  country  a  heaven  or  a  hell." 

His  conversation  seemed  in  very  marked  contrast 
with  that  we  had  on  the  iron  cliffs  of  Gloucester ;  and 
yet  it  was  substantially  the  same,  the  same  sudden  al 
ternations  between  hardness  and  tenderness.  His  con 
science  had  gathered  strength ;  but  his  power  to  resist 
it  had  increased.  He  appeared  to  me  like  one,  whose 
moral  nature  was  constantly  re-enforced  from  without, 
to  check  the  evil  influences  he  met  day  by  day.  As  we 


276  MOQUELUMNE  HILL. 

conversed,  he  was  very  tender ;  and  sometimes  he  ap 
peared  to  be  completely  broken  down  by  some  strange 
sorrow :  again,  like  the  sudden  changes  on  the  face  of 
the  sea  under  clouds  and  winds  and  old  storms,  his 
face  and  voice  would  indicate  a  wickedness  which  made 
me  almost  wish  I  was  not  alone  with  him. 

It  took  me  from  the  early  afternoon  till  past  sunset, 
to  get  little  by  little  the  account  I  give  in  a  few  words. 
Whenever  he  grew  uncommunicative,  I  turned  the  talk 
to  other  topics ;  and  by  the  power  of  poetry,  of  which 
he  was  very  fond,  or  merriment,  or  direct  appeal  to  his 
moral  nature,  I  soon  got  him  upon  the  track  again. 

It  appeared  that  after  many  months  of  varied  work 
and  monotonous  dissipation  in  London,  he  was  called 
upon  by  a  former  patron  in  evil  work,  to  catch  an 
insane  man  wandering  in  a  distant  part  of  the  world. 
He  described  his  employers  as  being, —  the  one  an 
intellectual  villain  of  great  powers,  another  a  muscular, 
coarse,  fast-lived  fellow,  and  the  third  a  miser ;  all  three 
of  high  rank  in  society,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  of 
noble  blood.  They  gave  their  intended  victim  the 
name  of  the  Mad-man ;  and  said  he  was  corresponding 
with  an  heiress.  She  was  so  infatuated  as  to  be  likely 
to  waste  all  on  him;  although  they  had  intercepted 
correspondence,  and  tried  in  every  way  to  break  up  the 
strange  spell.  It  had  now  become  necessary  for  them, 
in  guarding  the  estate,  to  find  the  wild  fellow;  and 
bring  him  where  his  insanity  could  be  proved,  and  her 
relation  to  him  could  be  regulated.  And  the  leader  of 
the  trio  privately  signified  that  if  the  Mad-rnan,  who 


MOQUELUMNE  HILL.  277 

claimed  considerable  piety,  could  be  transported  to 
heaven  so  quietly  that  no  law  would  ever  disturb  any 
party  concerned  in  the  matter,  it  would  be  more  accept 
able  to  them  and  a  great  saving  of  general  bother. 
This  hint  was  emphasized  by  a  substantial  gift. 

The  detective,  under  these  circumstances,  undertook 
to  find  the  crazy  man.  From  the  name  given,  and  from 
what  was  said  of  his  movements,  he  concluded  that 
the  troublesome  insane  fellow  was  none  other  than  the 
Wild  Man  he  had  already  tracked  from  the  Azores  to 
the  Essex  Woods ;  and  on  a  little  inquiry,  he  came  to 
believe  that  the  real  jewel  of  which  his  former  employer 
had  been  robbed  was  the  heart  of  his  only  child. 

Coming  to  America,  he  learned  that  the  wanderer 
had  not  only  been  to  California,  as  I  had  before  in 
formed  him,  but  returned  and  gone  again.  Taking 
steamer  quickly  as  possible,  he  found  on  board  a 
New  England  clergyman,  who  professed  to  be  acquaint 
ed  with  my  friend ;  and  who  strangely  confirmed  the 
Englishman's  notion  that  the  man  was  very  often 
wild  and  erratic  if  not  insane,  and  moreover  that  he 
was  of  little  account,  and  had  few  friends.  Upon  learn 
ing  some  part  of  the  detective's  errand  the  pastor 
agreed  to  aid  a  little  in  the  search,  declaring  that  such 
a  man  ought  to  be  cared  for. 

The  indignation  I  felt  on  hearing  this  story  so  far, 
made  me  almost  lose  my  self-control.  For  there  was 
something  in  the  manner  of  the  man,  which  made  me 
almost  certain  that  he  was,  in  some  moods,  ready  for 
violence ;  and  I  was  strongly  impressed  that  some 


278  MOQUELUMNE  HILL. 

strange  tragedy  had  actually  occurred.  But  I  was  mol 
lified  a  little  by  his  account,  given  in  the  most  subdued, 
tender  and  broken  spirit, —  of  the  power  this  minister 
gained  over  him.  It  seems  that  the  pastor  made 
straight  for  the  foreigner's  conscience ;  and  by  a  love 
and  sympathy  I  could  hardly  imagine,  he  so  won  the 
fellow,  that  the  man  told  him  frankly  about  his  frequent 
sinnings  and  half  repentings,  and  his  struggles  with  his 
own  conscience,  and  even  his  present  hesitation  be 
tween  right  doing  and  wrong.  This  the  man-hunter 
told  me  with  the  tears  starting, — 

"  I  hate  most  ministers,  but  I  love  that  man  as  if  he 
he  were  my  brother.  Still  he  never  knew  the  bottom 
of  my  heart.  I  wish  I  could  see  him  now.  I  must  see 
him  before  I  get  out  of  this  country." 

Then  he  stopped,  as  if  startled  by  his  own  words. 
And  nothing  I  could  say  or  do  removed  in  the  least 
the  impressions  he  must  have  been  gathering  from  my 
searching  and  sometimes  suspicious  look,  and  from  my 
lip  and  brow  and  the  tones  in  which  I  spoke.  I  had 
shut  the  door  of  his  lips.  When  we  first  began  our 
conversation,  I  had  managed  carefully;  but  as  the 
truth  began  to  break  out  that  he  had  been  again  with 
dreadful  commission  on  the  track  of  my  dearest  friend, 
I  could  not  perfectly  manage  myself ;  and  I  could  not 
therefore  manage  him  any  longer.  Vexed  with  myself, 
I  hobbled  down  the  hillside  before  daylight  was  gone. 
And  I  thought :  — 

"  My  way  is  my  folly.  Here  I  have  just  left  a  man 
whose  conscience  is  aroused,  and  who  has,  I  verily 


MOQUELUMNE  HILL.  279 

believe,  done  some  dreadful  deed  ;  and  he  longs  for  an 
ear  into  which  he  can  pour  his  story.  Making  it  my 
business  to  deal  with  men's  consciences,  I  know  so 
little  of  human  nature,  and  have  so  little  control  of 
myself  that  I  have  lost  him." 

And  I  remembered  Him  who  loved  even  His  mur 
derers.  Throwing  myself  upon  the  ground  under  a 
thick  shrub,  I  prayed  for  myself,  and  for  the  man  on 
the  hill ;  but  I  could  not  pray  for  him  whom  I  loved 
more  than  life,  for  I  felt  that  it  was  too  late. 

Going  to  my  room  I  could  not  rest,  and  could 
not  eat.  With  a  quick  purpose  to  follow  my  best  im 
pulses  rather  than  consult  prudence  or  law,  I  filled  my 
voluminous  skirt  pockets  with  edibles,  and  climbed  the 
hill  again.  The  moon,  in  its  second  quarter,  shone 
upon  the  deserted  camping  place ;  and  I  saw  the 
Englishman's  white  hat  just  disappearing  a  few  rods 
below.  I  hallooed,  and  he  turned  back.  His  blanket 
and  rifle  were  packed  for  travel.  He  asked  if  I  was 
alone.  Catching  at  once  his  point,  I  broke  into  a  loud 
laugh,  and  said, — 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  I'm  not  a  rascal,  if  you  are.  I  play 
no  tricks  on  travelers.  Come  back,  and  lunch  with 
me." 

When  he  saw  me  take  a  cold  chicken  from  one  of 
my  big  book-pockets,  and  draw  bread-rolls  and  a  bottle 
of  coffee  from  the  other,  he  advanced.  But  I  saw  that 
he  kept  an  eye  out,  so  that  it  was  needful  for  me  to 
proceed  with  caution.  With  warm  sympathies,  good 
humor,  and  hearty  love  for  him  as  I  supposed,  I  won 


280  MOQUELUMNE  HILL. 

him  little  by  little,  and  finally  told  him  frankly  that  I 
had  suspected  him  of  foul  play  toward  my  friend.  I 
said  that  I  was  thoroughly  ashamed  a  stray  Yan 
kee  minister  should  gain  his  confidence,  while  I  was 
unworthy  of  it. 

"  Where,"  said  I,  "  is  the  New  Testament  you  had  on 
Cape  Anne  ?  Did  I  see  it  in  your  hand  as  I  came  up 
this  afternoon  ? " 

Upon  this,  he  produced  it, —  stabbed  almost  through 
by  some  sharp  instrument, —  the  mark,  as  he  said,  of 
some  brawl.  Taking  it,  I  said  that  my  Christian  love 
could  not  be  turned  aside  by  any  deed  of  man. 

Knowing  a  cheerful  camp-fire  to  be  of  prime  im 
portance  in  thawing  him  out  and  making  us  one  for  the 
hour,  I  piled  on  the  stumps  and  dead  limbs  till  the 
night  was  light  round  about  us.  We  conversed  till 
midnight  •  and  he  told  me  the  rest  of  his  story,  talking 
quite  freely  and  connectedly  most  of  the  time.  The 
clergyman,  it  seems,  told  him  to  search  in  the  moun 
tains  where  the  Wild  Man  would  wander  alone  in  the 
summer.  And  having,  as  the  pursuer  had,  a  thorough 
taste  for  mountain  adventure,  he  entered  eagerly  upon 
the  chase. 

He  traversed  the  "silent  sea  of  pines"  about  the 
base  of  peaks  whose  tops  pierce  the  clouds ;  and  then 
tracked  his  victim  into  the  most  inaccessible  fastnesses 
of  the  Sierra,  and  there  hunted  him  as  a  wild  beast 
upon  the  mountains.  The  cool  domes  and  white 
towers,  pinnacles  and  spires,  obelisks  and  sharp  nee 
dles,  offered  a  difficult  country.  He  often  found  him- 


MOQUELUMNE  HILL.  281 

self  apparently  close  upon  the  Mad-man.  And  for  a 
long  time  he  tried  the  plan  of  coming  up  with  him, 
hoping,  as  he  said,  to  persuade  him  to  ship  for  Eng 
land;  but  the  wild  climber  was  unapproachable  as 
a  mountain  goat  or  eagle.  If  the  detective  had  doubt 
ed  whether  his  game  was  mad,  he  came  firmly  to 
believe  that  nothing  but  insanity  or  demoniacal  posses 
sion  could  enable  one  to  flit  about  in  perfect  safety 
among  the  most  terrific  crags  and  chasms  as  he  did. 
Indeed,  I  began  myself  to  think  that  the  wild  wan 
derer  must  have  been  truly  mad. 

The  hunter,  sleeping  night  after  night  amid  desola 
tion,  disturbed  only  by  the  sullen  sound  of  the  ava 
lanche,  and  spending  the  day  in  clambering  up  or  down 
precipices, —  almost  lost  his  own  reason  in  the  excite 
ment  of  the  chase.  He  was  sometimes  led  by  the 
promise  of  speedy  success  to  go  too  far  from  his  sup 
plies;  and  in  returning  would  lose  the  track  for  a 
time.  His  morning  walks  were  often  interrupted  by 
the  fall  of  rocks  crumbling  off  the  high  cliffs,  or  the 
loosening  of  boulders  rolling  down  the  mountain  side. 
Toward  evening  the  dark  and  frowning  brows  of 
mountain  walls  gathered  deeper  darkness,  and  he  could 
see  the  night  approaching  from  the  east,  and  settling 
down  over  the  deep  valleys.  Often,  when  he  lay  down 
to  rest,  the  frost  began  to  pry  off  fragments  from 
abrupt  ledges  far  above  him.  One  night,  just  before 
the  detective  left  the  mountains,  when  a  short  snow 
storm  was  warning  him  away,  he  heard  the  whole  range 
roaring,  one  sharp  peak  after  another  shooting  its 


282  MOQUELUMNE  HILL. 

avalanche  into  the  depths  below.  Just  before  morning 
a  torrent  of  ice  and  snow  slid  swiftly  down  a  smooth 
granite  roof,  and  rushed  off  the  eaves,  over  the  preci 
pice  under  which  he  was  lying ;  but  the  overhanging  of 
the  rock  saved  him  from  being  buried. 

He  had,  at  no  point,  obtained  a  very  near  view  of 
his  wild  prey;  and  now,  for  some  time,  had  so  utterly 
lost  the  trace,  that  he  began  to  think  the  lunatic  had 
perished  in  the  mountains.  But  as  he  was  moving 
about  on  the  sharp  roofs  of  the  wall  of  the  Ahwahne 
valley,  having  now  fairly  given  up  the  search,  he  saw 
the  Mad-man  sitting  upon  a  spike  of  granite,  which 
pushed  out  from  the  brink.  His  legs  were  dangling 
over  the  awful  abyss ;  and  he  sat  with  a  book  in  his 
hand,  apparently  absorbed  in  it. 

"  And  this,"  said  he,  "  was  the  last  time  I  saw  him." 

The  latter  part  of  the  story  had  been  told  with  so 
much  nervousness,  and  hesitation  and  gloomy  anticipa 
tion,  as  if  everything  was  coming  to  a  crisis, —  he 
having  his  eyes  cast  down  and  I  mine, —  that  when  he 
said  he  had  seen  my  friend  no  more,  I  could  have 
shrieked  with  terror.  He  was  evidently  prepared  for 
some  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  on  my  part :  for  he 
looked  up  when  I  did,  and  as  our  eyes  met,  I  thought  I 
never  before  saw  Goth,  Vandal,  and  Hun  in  modern 
figure.  Perhaps  he  would  have  told  me  more,  if,  at  the 
critical  moment  I  could  have  endured  it  and  with 
loving  hand  led  him  on :  but  how  could  I  love  a  fiend  ? 
I  broke  down  completely,  and  he  held  me  off, — 

"  I  can  tell  vou  no  more." 


MOQUELUMNE  HILL.  283 

I  think  I  must  have  fallen  into  a  stupor :  for  when  I 
came  to  myself,  I  was  moving  upon  his  strong  back 
near  the  bottom  of  the  hill  next  the  town.  And  he 
placed  me  upon  the  ground  tenderly,  saying,  — 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you.     Good  night." 


284  THE  LIVE   OAKS. 


XXIV. 
THE  LIVE  OAKS. 

I  WAS  ^completely  unmanned,  and  incapable  of 
motion.  My  only  thought  was :  Have  I  been 
spending  a  day  and  a  night  with  the  murderer  of 
my  most  intimate  friend?  I  knew  nothing;  and  had 
no  means  of  proving  anything;  but  I  felt  satisfied 
about  it.  The  cold  of  the  night  soon  pierced  me.  I 
went  home  to  sleep  through  weight  of  sorrow,  and  to 
dream  of  wild  mountains  and  the  hunted  man, —  and  to 
wake  forming  ill  plans.  I  thought  that  in  the  very 
early  dawning,  I  would  send  a  few  friends  to  search  the 
country.  Butv  with  daylight  I  came  to  a  better  purpose ; 
feeling  very  decidedly  and  clearly  that  his  aroused 
conscience  would  arrest  the  Englishman  sooner  than 
the  law  could  catch  him. 

I  went  to  the  camp  again,  now  deserted ;  and  there 
prayed  for  him,  and  that  I  myself  might  have  practical 
wisdom  in  the  circumstances.  Returning  home  I  slept 
some  time;  and  then  made  my  arrangements  to  go 
down  into  the  valley  that  night  to  reach  the  coast 
before  next  steamer  day. 

After  nightfall,  I  mounted  a  pony,  rode  till  the  moon 


THE  LIVE   OAKS.  285 

went  down,  and  then  for  a  time  went  forward  in  the 
darkness.  I  was  well  down  upon  the  plains  toward 
Stockton,  riding  among  the  enormous  trees,  which 
standing  apart  leave  open  spaces  of  greensward, —  a 
sight  by  daylight  or  moonlight  like  old  English  parks 
long  cultivated.  By  the  stars  I  could  still  make  out 
the  trees  in  the  roadway.  But  a  storm  was  gathering; 
and  it  became  so  dark,  that  I  could  hardly  keep  the 
path  in  the  rich,  black  soil.  I  turned  out  into  the 
timber  to  find,  a  place  to  sleep  a  little,  that  I  might  with 
early  dawning  go  forward  to  the  down  river  boat. 

My  pony  began  to  shy  and  stop  and  snort.  Quick 
as  thought,  I  leaped  to  the  ground  upon  my  sound 
ankle;  and  half  smothering  the  nose  of  my  beast, 
quieted  him,  and  led  him  back  a  little.  My  ears  were 
now  filled  with  sounds  of  distress,  from  out  the  dark 
ness.  Little  by  little,  I  crept  toward  the  voice;  and 
soon  found  myself  close  to  a  deserted  cabin.  Within 
it  a  man  was  crying  out  with  shrieks  of  agony, — 

"I  killed  him,  I  killed  him.  He  dropped  from  his 
perch  like  a  stricken  bird." 

And  then  the  man  seemed  to  be  pacing  rapidly 
across  the  room  in  the  darkness.  No  light  shone 
through  the  chinks  in  the  wall.  He  suddenly  stood 
still ;  and  poured  out  words  that  sent  the  blood  to  my 
heart  and  then  to  my  finger  tips :  — 

"I  believe  there  is  some  one  listening." 

And  then  he  answered  himself, — "Be  still  you  fool: 
it  was  only  your  own  heart  beating." 

Then  he  walked  the  floor  again. — 


2  THE  LIVE   OAKS. 

"  Oh !  I  did  not  mean  to  kill  him.  I  was  half  mad 
when  I  did  it.  I  did  not  mean  to  kill  him:  no,  not 
with  my  rifle." 

And  he  stood  still :  — 

"Yes,  you  did:  you  meant  to  shoot  so  near,  that  he 
would  fall,  through  sudden  alarm." 

Then  I  heard  a  sharp  cry :  — 

"What!  is  that  you,  mother?  Are  you  praying  for 
me  yet?  Old  gray  haired  woman,  I  thought  you  were 
dead  long  ago." 

And  he'flung  himself  upon  the  floor :  then  rose  and 
walked  calmly,  saying, — 

"Yes,  I  saw  from  the  valley  below  his  body  far  up 
the  cliff,  half  hanging  on  a  shelf  of  rock." 

Next,  he  changed  his  posture,  and  I  heard  him 
praying,— 

"O  God  of  my  mother!" 

But  that  was  all  he  could  say;  and  he  said  it  over 
many  times  in  a  quiet  voice  as  if  he  was  at  rest.  Im 
mediately  he  started  up  again  with  a  wild  cry, — 

"I  wish  God  was  not  so  far  off.  I  wish  I  could  see 
Christ.  If  He  would  only  come  and  put  his  hand  on 
me,  and  love  me,  I  would  tell  him  all." 

Then  he  was  silent :  but  soon  I  heard  the  voice  of 
prayer,— 

"Oh,  my  sympathizing  Saviour,  I  believe  in  you; 
because  my  mother  did,  and  because  the  pastor  did  on 
board  ship.  He  was  the  only  one  who  has  loved  me 
since  I  was  a  little  child.  And  he  told  me  that  you 
loved  me.  I  believe  him:  and  I  believe  you. — Now,  I 


THE  LIVE   OAKS.  287 

want  to  tell  you  all  about  it.  Ever  since  I  refused  to 
pray  with  my  mother, —  I  have  been  worse  and  worse  ; 
till  now  my  hands  are  red." 

And  then  he  rose  and  shrieked, — 
"  My  hands  are  red !     My  hands  are  red ! " 
After   a   moment,   he   became   suddenly   still,   as   if 
listening ;  for  he  whispered, — 

"Some  one  must  have  heard  me.  I  must  get  out  of 
this." 

He  struck  a  light.  And  I  crept  away,  nimbly  as  I 
could.  My  whole  frame  so  trembled  with  excitement, 
that  I  felt  no  more  fit  to  face  him  than  a  babe  would 
be  ready  to  contend  with  a  tiger.  I  am  ashamed ;  but 
I  went  away.  I  could  not  see  that  man  again.  It  was 
a  little  before  day  break,  and  the  darkness  was  very 
dense;  but  I  found  the  road,  and  moved  on  toward 
Stockton.  After  going  a  long  distance,  the  full  light 
now  streaming  from  the  east,  I  sat  down  under  a  big 
oak,  determined  that  I  would  give  up  the  boat  that 
day,  and  seek  for  the  stained  Englishman :  who  was,  I 
began  to  fear,  going  mad  through  the  accusations  of 
conscience.  Giving  my  horse  a  long  tether,  he  began 
grazing,  I  kindled  a  little  fire,  and,  after  breaking  my 
fast,  leaned  against  the  oak,  and  read  here  and  there 
in  the  Gospels.  Prostrate  upon  my  face,  I  prayed  long 
for  the  miserable  man  in  the  cabin;  and  that  I  might 
have  grace  and  energy  to  meet  him,  and  wisdom  to 
guide  him. — 

"I  ought  to  have  had  the  nerve  and  heart,  to  have 
met  the  man  on  the  lonely  threshold,  with  open  arms 
and  with  the  name  of  a  loving  Christ." 


288  THE  LIVE   OAKS. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  ought,"  said  a  voice  close  beside 
me. 

And  looking  up,  I  saw  the  man  standing  with  pack 
and  rifle. 

"You  stood  by  the  old  cabin,  last  night,"  said  he. 
"I  found  your  trail." 

"  I  ought  to  have  broken  in  upon  you,  or  met  you  at 
the  door,"  I  answered. 

"  It  is  well  you  did  not ;  for  I  was  in  a  strange  mood 
then.  You  would  have  been  hardly  safe." 

"  I  would  have  met  you  with  the  name  that  is  above 
every  name,  and  God's  own  word  of  full  forgiveness." 

"Yes,  I  know  it  all, —  the  old  story.  But  I  am  not 
ready  for  that.  I  will  first  meet  human  law ;  then  see 
if  there  is  any  divine  mercy." 

I  began  opening  my  Testament;  but  he  interrupted 
me:  — 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  you  and  I  can  get  on  together. 
Your  Christian  love  is  too  easily  turned  away  from 
such  a  fellow  as  I  am.  Your  best  thoughts  seem  to  be 
second  thoughts,  too  late.  I  want  to  talk  with  a  man 
whose  first  impulses  are  always  warm  towards  the  worst 
of  men.  I  must  leave  you  now.  If  I  do  not  find  the 
Yankee  minister,  I  may  send  for  you  when  I  am  once 
•safely  housed  by  justice." 

Hastily  waving  his  hand, —  I  saw  him  no  more. 

Unexpected  business  occupied  me  in  San  Francisco, 
till  ship  after  ship  steamed  for  Panama.  But  on  the  day 
I  left  the  country,  I  went  to  the  top  of  Telegraph  Hill 


THE  LIVE   OAKS.  289 

to  take  one  more  look  at  the  wonderful  panorama  there 
unfolded  ;  and  whom  should  I  see  but  my  wild,  hunted, 
slain,  insane  friend,  enjoying  the  prospect  hugely.  I 
had  already  heard  of  his  safety.  With  the  most  hearty 
laugh,  he  amused  me  for  five  minutes, —  telling  what  a 
chase  he  had  led  the  villain  ;  and  how, —  seeing  him 
about  to  fire,  he  dropped  off  his  seat  to  a  ledge  below, 
knowing  that  the  huntsman  was  not  sure  footed  and 
cool  headed  enough  to  come  to  the  edge  to  search  for 
him.  He  was  about  to  tell  me  more,  and  to  tell  me  of 
his  new  projects  of  work ;  but  he  was  suddenly  called 
away  by  a  messenger.  And,  first  leaving  a  letter  full 
of  questions,  and  some  account  of  my  adventures  with 
his  pursuer, —  I  sailed  for  the  East  without  seeing 
Cephas  again. 

Next  morning,  going  early  on  deck,  I  saw  the  Eng 
lishman,  sitting  well  forward,  looking  over  his  dagger- 
pierced  Testament;  and  when  he  slowly  turned  his 
face,  not  yet  seeing  me,  I  saw  that  he  had  been  weep 
ing.  I  instantly  walked  that  way,  saying,  in  a  kind  but 
half  jocular  voice  :  — 

"  Good  morning,  Sir.  I  am  glad  to  meet  you.  I  see 
you  are  not  hanged  yet;  and  I  met  your  Mad-man  yes 
terday,  all  the  better  for  his  trip  to  the  mountains." 

For  a  moment,  his  face  kindled  with  a  smile,  and 
then  it  relapsed  into  a  settled  sadness,  which  he  kept 
all  the  voyage.  I  learned  that  when  he  left  the  Live 
Oaks  he  moved  warily;  but  went  soon  to  San  Fran 
cisco,  fully  determined  to  give  himself  into  the  hands 
of  the  law,  and  to  confess  all.  But  he  happily  met  his 
ii 


290  THE  LIVE  OAKS. 

clerical  friend  of  the  outward  voyage,  and  into  the  ears 
of  this  friendly  parson,  he  poured  the  account  of  his 
wicked  adventures.  But  the  minister  told  him  his  vic 
tim  was  living.  And, —  to  make  short  the  long  story, 
the  details  of  which  I  heard  at  intervals  during  many 
days, —  the  hand  of  love  led  the  misguided  man  to  his 
mother's  Saviour,  and  the  very  peace  of  God.  But  the 
joy  of  our  faith  could  not  yet  kindle  in  his  heart ;  at 
least  not  enough  to  dispel  the  sadness  which  a  sense 
of  sin  had  stamped  on  his  face.  Night  after  night,  as 
we  coursed  the  shining  waves  of  a  tropical  sea,  we 
walked  the  deck  by  moonlight,  holding  sweet  commun 
ion  together.  My  own  faith  and  love  grew  stronger; 
and  I  learned  a  lesson  in  the  business  of  winning  men 
to  Christ. 


ERECTING    THE  AIR   CASTLES.  291 


XXV. 

ERECTING  THE  AIR  CASTLES. 

next  letter  I  received  from  Cephas,  told  me 
that  he  was  himself  the  New  England  pastor,  who 
met  the  detective  on  the  ship  in  going  to  Cali 
fornia;  that  he  disguised  himself,  and  led  his  pursuer 
strange  routes  week  after  week.  He  met  the  scamp 
after  his  return  to  the  Bay,  and  tried  to  do  him  good ; 
but  did  not  tell  him  the  secret.  From  the  English 
man's  story,  he  concluded  that  the  guardians  of  Helen's 
property  might  be  the  ones  who  had  sent  for  him ;  and 
it  was  their  fault,  not  her's,  that  he  had  heard  nothing 
from  her  directly.  This  theory,  however,  he  had  no 
means  of  substantiating.  The  detective  had  never 
seen  Helen,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  circumstances  of 
the  family.  This  letter  from  Cephas  was  written  on 
Telegraph  Hill,  overlooking  the  bright  waters  of  the 
Bay  and  the  ships  sailing  in  and  out  of  the  Golden 
Gate.  My  friend  was  rejoicing  in  what  he  called  per 
fect  health,  and  entering  his  work  with  a  bound. 
Already,  new. churches  and  schools,  and  schemes  of 
moral  agitation  were  passing  in  vision  before  his  eyes. 
And  when,  as  the  months  rolled  by,  I  had  so  far 


292  ERECTING    THE  AIR   CASTLES. 

caught  Cephas'  missionary  spirit  as  to  leave  my  home 
by  the  sea  and  undertake  work  upon  the  rugged  back 
bone  of  this  continent,  in  a  village, —  I  beg  pardon  of 
all  Western  men,  it  was  a  "city," — half  tilted  up  on 
mountain  crags  and  half  tumbled  into  ravines,  I  used 
often  to  get  letters  from  my  friend,  in  which  were  glow 
ing  accounts  of  a  new  college  begun  on  paper.  One 
day,  as  I  sat  in  a  cosey  nook  of  a  wild  ridge  facing  the 
saw-teeth  mountains  of  the  west,  I  read  quite  an  elab 
orate  document,  which  really  looked  as  if  Cephas'  New 
Education  would  have  a  fair  chance  to  be  tested.  The 
school  was  located  with  some  property,  and  plenty  of 
wise  men  to  manage  it. 

Upon  another  day,  when  I  was  weary  with  gazing 
on  hillsides  aflame  with  flowers,  and  tracing  the  course 
of  swift  streams  over  polished  rocks,  whose  bright 
colored  veins  shone  like  beds  of  jasper,  topaz  and 
emerald, —  I  sat  down  under  a  cottonwood  to  read 
again  and  again  Cephas'  letters.  These  told  me  of  the 
energy  with  which  he  was  pursuing  his  studies ;  devour 
ing  boxes  of  books,  and  making  notes  upon  a  thousand 
bits  of  paper ;  filling  up  his  pigeon-holes  with  material 
for  future  work.  And  he  began  to  thank  God  for 
triumphs  of  coming  years,  much  as  the  three  Spaniards 
praised  Him  before  they  left  home,  for  the  victories 
they  were  yet  to  gain  in  the  conquest  of  Peru. 

One  day  I  received  a  strange  paper  from  Cephas.  I 
did  not  then  know  whether  he  meant  to  send  it  to  me, 
or  whether  it  came  by  accident  through  his  directing 
the  wrong  envelope  and  sending  me  certain  notes  de- 


ERECTING    THE  AIR   CASTLES.  293 

signed  for  his  pigeon-holes.  That  it  might  have  been 
by  accident,  seems  now  the  more  likely,  since  I  have 
lately  found  among  his  manuscripts  a  letter  never  re 
ceived,  marked  on  the  back, — "Shagbark  in  the  rocks." 
He  had  probably  interchanged  the  papers.  By  the 
notes  I  received,  I  learned  what  keen  hours  of  joy  he 
had  in  carrying  all  his  pet  plans  to  God. 

"  Here  was  one,"  says  the  manuscript,  "  who  in  his 
out  door  praying,  used  to  climb  about  among  the  pock 
ets  of  wild  crags  or  on  a  mountain  side  in  the  night, 
when  his  neighbors  could  not  see  his  wanderings.  He 
said,  somewhat  quaintly,  that  many  passages  of  Scrip 
ture  came  to  mind  with  peculiar  freshness, — *  Let  thine 
eyes  look  right  on,  and  thine  eyelids  straight  before 
thee.  Ponder  the  path  of  thy  feet,  and  let  all  thy  ways 
be  established.  Turn  not  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the 
left.'  And  he  said,  'I  will  take  heed  to  my  ways.' 
Slippery  places,  the  ways  of  darkness,  and  stumbling 
among  the  mountains,  were  phrases  that  came  to  the 
mind  of  him  who  said, — '  He  maketh  my  feet  like  hind's 
feet,  and  setteth  me  upon  my  high  places.'  And  he 
asked  that  God  would  give  his  angels  charge  over  him, 
lest  at  any  time  he  should  dash  his  foot  against  a  stone. 
Such  imagery  and  such  prayers  as  were  suggested  to 
David  when  he  was  at  home  among  rocky  hills,  came  to 
his  mind. 

"  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  such  a  course  is  needlessly 
eccentric.  The  Saviour  himself  visited  high  places  in 
the  night.  And  if  one  has  very  urgent  business  with 
God,  he  will  not  greatly  err  in  rising  a  great  while 


294  ERECTING    THE  AIR   CASTLES. 

before  it  is  day  to  go  away  and  talk  with  him ;  and  to 
do  it  in  such  place  as  he  may  find  most  secluded,  and 
most  suggestive  of  God's  immediate  presence. 

"  Sometimes  by  day,  this  mountaineer  could  go  a 
little  further  from  the  town ;  and  wandering  long  in  the 
trackless  wilds, —  now  sitting,  now  rising,  now  walking, 
now  prostrate, —  he  said, — '  Thou  knowest  my  downsit- 
ting  and  mine  uprising ;  *  *  Thou  compassest  my  path, 
and  my  lying  down,  and  art  acquainted  with  all  my 
ways.'  He  felt  that  God  as  a  person  knew  every  step 
he  took,  every  emotion  he  felt,  and  every  word  he 
uttered.  In  those  great  solitudes  where  Nature  was 
mighty  and  men  were  few,  he  asked, — *  Shall  any  man 
feel  lonely  with  Almighty  God  by  his  side  ? ' 

"  'As,'  he  said,  '  I  am  climbing  about  mountain 
crags,  secreting  myself  in  every  crevice,  crying  unto 
God  and  praising  Him,  the  words  of  the  Psalms  come 
wonderfully  to  mind,  and  I  call  God  my  Rock.  These 
ledges  suggest  to  me  the  Rock  of  Ages.  Amid  castle 
rocks  and  towers  that  rise  on  the  sides  of  the  moun 
tains,  I  call  God  my  Tower,  where  I  take  refuge.  I 
find  in  him  new  tokens  of  kindness,  peculiar  adaptation 
to  my  personal  wants,  day  by  day ;  and  I  emphasize 
the  pronoun  as  I  cry,  my  Rock,  my  Tower.  I  know 
that  I  am  so  guilty,  that  I  ought  to  cry  to  rock  and 
mountain  to  fall  upon  me  to  hide  me  from  the  face  of 
God;  but  when  I  remember  that  day  in  which  the 
rocks  were  rent  in  sympathy  with  my  dying  Saviour,  I 
can  but  go  frankly  to  God,  and  use  the  words  that 
he  himself  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  prophet  David 


ERECTING    THE  AIR   CASTLES.  295 

who  was  a  sinner  like  me ;  and  with  that  penitent  for 
given  man  I  am  ready  to  praise  God  day  and  night, — 
calling  upon  rock  and  hill,  water  brooks  and  fir-trees, 
valley  and  mountain  to  praise  the  Lord  with  me,  as  I 
sit  in  the  secret  places  of  the  hills. 

"Let  me  ask,  my  friend,  whether  it  is  not  suitable 
for  every  Christian  to  come  into  league  with  the  stones 
of  the  field  and  with  all  the  powers  of  nature,  that 
upon  many  a  natural  altar,  upon  all  the  memorable 
rocks  in  his  region,  under  every  fine  shade,  upon  all 
high  hills,  in  all  deep  ravines,  and  by  all  streams,  he 
may  frequently  renew  his  consecration  to  God.  Moses 
was  intimate  with  Him  whom  no  man  hath  seen  nor 
can  see :  if  we  are  often  in  rocky  clefts,  shall  we  not 
behold  some  part  of  the  ineffable  glory  ?  May  we  not 
commune  with  the  Lord  upon  hill  tops,  obtaining  the 
revelation  of  His  will  and  favors  for  the  perishing  mil 
lions?" 

In  a  mining  country  Cephas  thought  himself  the  man 
of  luck  if  he  could  suddenly  disappear  in  a  driving 
snow  storm,  and  enter  some  desolate  house  in  a  distant 
mountain  ravine ;  or  if  he  could  find  his  way  into  some 
decaying  stamp  mill  among  deserted  mines,  where  he 
could  make  himself  at  home  without  fear  of  molesta 
tion,  and  pound  out  gold  all  day.  His  people  might 
have  called  him  wild  if  they  had  known  his  habits, 
but  the  gold  he  took  out  was  more  precious  than  all 
they  could  dig  from  their  deep  shafts,  or  wash  from  the 
streams ;  and  his  searching  the  promises  of  God,  as  if 
they  had  been  veins  of  silver,  was  making  him  wealthy. 


296  ERECTING   THE  AIR   CASTLES. 

He  asked  Him  who  giveth  every  good  and  perfect  gift, 
for  a  blessing  upon  the  country  he  lived  in, —  spiritual 
benediction  worth  more  to  it  than  all  treasure  in  moun 
tain  and  mine,  wheatfield  and  garden,  vine  and  fruit. 

"Whenever  there  comes  a  blinding  storm,"  wrote 
Cephas,  "  I  seize  upon  it  as  the  choicest  boon  possible, 
since  it  makes  a  solitude  everywhere.  Whether  one  is 
shut  in  on  a  prairie  alone,  or  enclosed  amid  high  moun 
tains  shaggy  with  forests  and  threatening  with  over 
hanging  ledges  and  boulders,  or  walking  close  by  the 
sea  with  the  waves  on  one  side  and  rough  rocks  on  the 
other  side,  a  snow  storm  is  always  a  veil  shutting  off 
distant  prospects ;  leaving  one  alone  with  God  and  the 
great  forces  of  nature.  Even  when  you  pass  through  a 
village,  the  snow  so  fills  the  air  that  you  hardly  notice 
the  houses ;  and  if  on  a  forest  road  you  meet  a  snow- 
clad  teamster,  he  looks  so  like  a  storm  spirit  that  your 
thoughts  are  not  turned  from  their  course ;  and  your 
own  beard  and  clothing  are  so  filled  and  covered  with 
the  fast  falling  winter,  that  you  hardly  know  yourself  as 
a  man ;  you  heed  only  the  spiritual  world.  If  you 
choose  to  lie  down  upon  a  bed  of  snow  in  the  woods 
with  your  face  upward,  and  see  and  feel  fine  snow 
falling  fast  upon  you,  it  will  be  but  little  while  before 
you  think  for  the  moment  that  you  are  a  part  of  the 
system  of  nature  around  you;  and  find  yourself  liable 
to  be  buried  in  the  snow  like  a  fallen  tree.  It  is  when 
a  man  gets  so  out  of  himself,  out  of  the  common  rut 
his  mind  runs  in,  and  has  some  fresh  and  strange  ex 
perience,  that  he  is  most  awake  to  spiritual  impressions 


ERECTING    THE  AIR   CASTLES.  297 

and  is  best  prepared  to  commune  with  Him  who  de 
lights  to  make  it  slorm  in  the  season  for  tempest." 

It  was  upon  such  days  that  the  Wild  Man  with  the 
Shagbark  plodded  all  day.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
impression  made  upon  me  by  these  revelations  of  my 
friend's  habits  of  life  in  a  new  country.  I  became 
fully  confident  that  his  old-time  dreams  of  great  useful 
ness  in  laying  the  foundations  of  many  generations 
would  be  now  fulfilled.  He  was  a  hard  student ;  thor 
oughly  practical  in  managing  affairs,  painstaking  in  de 
tails,  wise  in  counsel,  farsighted  in  making  plans,  and 
he  had  the  solitary  habits  of  a  Hebrew  prophet. 


THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 


XXVI. 
THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 

AS  the  months  went  by,  I  learned  much  about  the 
effects  of  dry  mountain  air  in  a  country  almost 
cloudless  for  a  large  part  of  the  year, —  air  sweet 
to  the  taste  and  stimulating  like  wine,  giving  one  the 
sense  that  he  is  inhaling  new  energy, —  an  atmosphere 
quickening  to  the  nervous  activity,  intensifying  the  life 
and  preparing  unwise  men, —  who  allow  themselves  no 
respite,  and  disregard  the  common  conditions  of  lon 
gevity, — to  break  down  suddenly.  I  was  expecting, 
therefore,  to  hear  that  Cephas  in  like  climate  had  over 
worked;  and  I  was  preparing  to  see  his  face,  the  face 
of  an  invalid.  I  had  heard  nothing  from  him  for  more, 
than  half  a  year.  What  I  next  learned  was  this :  — 

" '  He  hath  stripped  me  of  my  glory,  and  taken  the 
crown  from  my  head.'  I  have  undertaken  more  than  I 
can  do,  and  have  fallen  under  it.  I  am  compelled  to 
get  out  of  the  country  altogether,  physically  unequal  to 
the  work.  A  veto  is  put  upon  all  further  personal 
experimenting  in  this  line.  Henceforth  I  must  desist 
from  works  possible  only  to  the  strong,  and  mend  my 
broken  body.  All  I  can  now  look  for  is  to  do  pastoral 


THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK.  299 

work  with  small  care,  and  devote  myself  to  my  studies. 
This  is  the  heaviest  blow  of  my  life,  putting  an  end 
to  the  sleeping  and  waking  dream  of  all  my  years. 
Nothing  has  so  completely  wrecked  me  mind  and  body 
since  Helen's  death. 

"I  cannot  so  truly  say  that  Providence  has  balked 
my  plans,  as  that  I  have  done  it.  '  I  will  hedge  up  thy 
way  with  thorns/  is  not  in  this  case  so  much  the  voice 
from  heaven,  as  my  own.  'Our  actions,'  says  Goethe, 
'equally  with  our  sufferings,  clog  the  course  of  our 
lives.'  I  can  see  my  own  lack  of  judgment  and  my 
own  blunders,  which  have  led  to  this  result.  'If  you 
have  endured  baseness  of  soul,  impute  not  the  fault  to 
the  gods.' 

"The  formation  of  unreasonable  expectations — mis 
calculation,  error  in  judgment, —  is  probably  the  ulti 
mate  ground  of  all  my  sorrows.  I  have  known  so  little 
of  the  usual  course  of  divine  providence  that  I  have 
made  impracticable  schemes.  My  knowledge  of  human 
nature  has  not  been  sufficient  to  prevent  my  being 
buoyed  up  by  vain  expectations,  the  failure  of  which 
has  sunk  me  the  deeper  in  difficulty.  The  most  pru 
dent  man  has  numberless  regrets ;  and  there  are  many, 
wise  and  unwise,  who  finally  face  the  fact  that  life-long 
projects  are  overthrown  by  mistakes  that  could  have 
been  easily  avoided.  It  is  these  disappointments  we 
prepare  for  ourselves,  which  act  as  make-weight,  turn 
ing  the  scale,  in  the  physical  crisis  of  life.  My  failure 
of  health  is  most  complete ;  the  nervous  exhaustion  of 
long  continued,  highly  exciting  and  severe  labor,  being 


300  THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 

now  accompanied  by  a  general  fall  of  all  my  Air  Cas 
tles  as  if  by  the  Shock  of  an  Earthquake. 

"Today  I  have  read  Luther,  where  he  says, — *I  can 
not  guide  myself,  and  yet  would  fain  guide  the  world ! 
Many  a  time  I  have  made  fine  articles  and  rules,  and 
brought  them  to  our  Lord  God  to  guide  Him.  But  the 
good  God  has  let  me  see  in  the  end  how  all  my  master 
ing  has  come  to  nothing.'  I  feel  satisfied,  however, 
that  this  is  excellent  discipline.  If  we  make  mistakes 
in  solving  the  problem  of  life,  our  very  blundering  may 
teach  us  to  exercise  more  care.  If  we  learn  to  know 
our  errors  and  gain  a  little  wisdom,  we  shall  be  better 
prepared  for  a  higher  life.  Surely  our  Father  loves  us 
none  the  less  for  our  blundering  and  the  schooling  we 
get  from  it.  My  friend  Nellie  writes, — 'I  am  very 
grateful  to  Providence  for  giving  me  a  stage  of  exis 
tence  in  which  to  learn  how  to  live.  I  suppose  we 
should  feel  infinitely  more  disappointed,  if  we  had  to 
make  all  our  missteps  in  a  higher  plane  of  existence/ 
All  I  can  do  in  these  dark  hours  is  to  use  the  words  of 
old  time, —  'Cause  me  to  know  the  way  wherein  I 
should  walk,  for  I  lift  up  my  soul  unto  Thee.' 

"  Yet,  on  the  whole,  I  am  bearing  my  new  burden 
cheerfully.  And  when  I  forget  my  feelings  and  settle 
down  to  think,  I  appreciate  the  wise  saw  which  de 
clares  that  '  Life  is  a  comedy  to  those  who  think,  and  a 
tragedy  to  those  who  feel.'  " 

After  some  weeks,  in  which  I  heard  npthing  further 
from  my  friend,  I  received  a  communication  from  one 


THE   EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK.  301 

of  the  members  of  his  church  in  California,  which  re 
vealed  a  tragedy  little  looked  for. 

The  pastor  had  been  to  Humboldt  Bay  to  rest.  One 
morning  after  a  storm,  a  vessel  was  discovered  over 
turned  in  the  harbor.  Cephas  went  with  others  to  see 
if  relief  was  needed.  Climbing  up  the  side  of  the 
schooner's  bottom,  a  sound  was  heard,  as  if  some  one 
in  the  hold  was  feebly  pounding  to  attract  attention. 
As  soon  as  axes  could  do  the  work,  an  opening  was 
made  ;  and  a  living  child  about  two  years  old  was  found 
in  the  arms  of  a  mother  just  dead.  The  mother  had 
managed  to  get  a  position  with  the  upper  part  of  her 
body  out  of  water,  which  filled  the  vessel  except  about 
two  feet  next  the  bottom ;  and  the  child  had  been  so 
secured  that  he  should  not  fall.  Then  with  an  old 
mustard-pot  in  her  hand  the  woman  had  been  pounding 
to  make  an  alarm,  if  any  one  by  chance  should  come  to 
the  rescue.  The  last  sounds  she  made  were  heard  by 
the  boatmen  ;  her  dying  strength  had  been  given  to  the 
blows,  and  she  was  dead  when  Cephas  laid  hold  to  lift 
out  the  body.  The  child  had  a  tin  rattle  in  his  hand. 
He  bore  his  mother's  features;  and  she  was  the  very 
image  of  the  dead  Helen. 

"This  is  my  Helen,"  said  Cephas,  as  the  body  was 
placed  in  the  boat. 

The  burial  service  took  place  under  a  giant  red 
wood  ;  and  there  the  remains  now  rest.  A  tablet  is 
placed  upon  the  tree, — "  In  memory  of  one  with  face 
and  figure  like  Helen." 

The  body  of  another  passenger  was  found,  thought 


302  THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 

by  the  boatmen  to  be  most  likely  a  younger  brother 
of  the  dead  mother.  From  some  articles  probably 
theirs,  it  appeared  that  they  were  English  people.  Not 
one  of  the  coaster's  crew  survived.  The  little  child 
was  cared  for  by  a  settler's  wife,  and  then  placed  in  a 
family  in  San  Francisco:  he  is  now  standing  by  my 
side  as  I  write.  The  shock  of  this  wreck  and  the 
rescue,  and  the  rising  of  the  face  of  the  dead  and  the 
child  image  —  added  to  the  nervous  prostration  under 
which  my  friend  had  been  for  some  time  suffering — 
resulted  in  a  mental  state  so  morbid,  that  my  corre 
spondent  described  it  as  more  than  semi-madness.  It 
seemed  impossible  to  divert  his  mind ;  and  there  was 
some  danger  of  a  complete  overthrow  of  the  intellect 
if  a  decisive  change  did  not  take  place  at  once.  It 
was  under  these  circumstances  that  Cephas  left  the 
country,  and  came  to  my  home  in  Colorado. 

I  found  him  in  my  study  one  day,  upon  my  return 
from  Rogers'  Hill.  He  was  reading;  and  when  he 
raised  his  face  at  my  incoming,  I  could  see  that  my 
friend  of  the  past  was  no  more:  here  was  a  man  new 
to  me;  almost  shattered,  as  I  thought  at  the  time. 
A  day  or  two,  however,  sufficed  to  give  a  new  tone  to 
his  talk.  Within  a  week  I  could  see  that  the  memory 
of  former  days  and  living  contact  with  an  intimate 
friend  was  giving  him  a  fresh  hold  on  living.  His  will 
gained  such  strength  before  a  month  was  over,  that  he 
began  to  master  himself  and  look  on  the  side  of  hope 
and  life. 

One  day  we  went  to  the  cabin  of  a  devout  old  man, 


THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK.  303 

who  lived  in  a  lonely  gulch,  which  had  been  badly  torn 
by  the  miners  and  left  in  desolation.  The  noble  face 
of  the  grayhaired  saint  met  us  at  the  door;  he  had  a 
Bible  in  his  hand.  Entering,  we  found  that  the  little 
hut,  perhaps  twelve  feet  by  twenty,  was  divided  into 
four  or  five  apartments.  First  going  through  a  sort  of 
woodshed,  we  turned  to  the  right  into  a  back  passage 
way  leading  to  the  workshop,  then  wheeled  round  to 
the  right  again  so  as  to  walk  in  the  direction  whence 
we  came,  and  entered  a  minute  kitchen.  There  was 
just  room  enough  for  a  small  stove,  an  office-chair  well 
cushioned,  shelves  for  dishes,  and  a  little  cuddy  for 
provisions.  Four  feet  by  five  is  too  large  a  measure 
ment  for  the  room  as  I  remember  it.  Stepping  across 
the  kitchen,  we  came  into  the  front  parlor,  just  five  feet 
square,  with  a  narrow  bench  running  around  it. 

"  This  room,"  said  our  host,  "  I  built  on  purpose  to 
hold  prayer  meetings  in." 

We  sat  down,  and  held  a  prayer  meeting;  two  or 
three  gathered  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  The  old  man 
still  had  his  thumb  in  the  Bible,  as  when  we  met  him 
at  the  door.  He  had  awaked  that  morning  with  a 
feeling  of  great  anxiety  about  some  vexing  thing  un 
known  to  me;  and  so  he  had  taken  the  Bible,  begin 
ning  at  Genesis  to  turn  the  leaves,  to  find  in  Old 
Testament  story  those  texts  which  just  met  his  want  at 
the  hour ;  it  being  now  ten  o'clock,  his  book  was  open 
at  Isaiah.  Patriarchs  and  psalmists,  and  the  Voice  of 
God,  had  been  heard  in  his  dwelling  since  break  of 
day.  And  when  he  stood  up  to  pray,  with  face  looking 


304  THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 

upward, —  I  never  saw  him  kneel, — it  was  like  the 
pleading  of  one  of  the  ancient  prophets.  There  was  a 
wild  rhapsody,  not  always  connected  and  making  what 
we  call  good  sense,  but  always  a  great  sense  of  man's 
sinfulness  and  nothingness,  and  the  holiness  and  great 
ness  of  the  Infinite  Majesty.  God  was  so  exalted  in 
his  prayers,  that  the  half  hour  seemed  short, —  like  a 
moment  of  standing  by  Ezekiel  in  time  of  vision. 

Before  our  going  out,  this  man  of  four  score  drew 
aside  a  curtain  on  the  wall,  that  we  might  see  his  sleep 
ing  place.  It  was  built  like  a  ship's  berth,  such  as  he 
used  to  occupy  in  his  boyhood  days  of  sea-faring. 
When  we  were  leaving  the  house,  untying  our  ponies 
and  leading  them  across  the  ravine,  this  lonely  man 
who  commonly  kept  company  with  prophets  and  guar 
dian  angels,  went  with  us  a  little  distance.  As  we 
were  about  to  part  he  stood  still :  pointing  to  the  loose 
boulders  about  us,  to  the  ragged  heads  of  the  moun 
tains,  and  to  certain  snow  clad  peaks  in  the  distance, 
he  waved  his  hand,  saying, — 

"  Everything  you  see  is  motive  power.  These  rocks 
and  mountains  are  to  be  used  in  crushing  rocks  and 
mountains.  The  Sierra  Mad  re  will  crumble  under 
machinery,  moved  perpetually  by  dead  weight." 

His  eye  kindled,  and  he  raised  both  hands  above  his 
bare  head;  and,  looking  earnestly  into  my  face,  he 
added, — 

"  I  have  a  secret  which  will  level  the  everlasting  hills, 
and  pound  them  into  powder.  I  may  not  see  it,  but  I 
have  the  idea;  and  it  will  revolutionize  the  world." 


THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK.  3°5 

Riding  over  the  top  of  the  next  ridge,  I  told  Cephas 
of  a  great  favor  once  shown  me,  when  this  inventor 
took  me  into  the  largest  and  fairest  apartment  of  his 
cabin,  where  he  experimented  upon  a  machine  which 
would  never  cease  to  move  when  once  started  with 
dead  weight  applied  in  the  right  place,  and  whose 
power  would  be  limitless  as  the  weight  of  the  earth. 
He  had  promised  to  tell  me  sometime  the  principle 
upon  which  it  was  based,  lest  the  secret  die  with  him. 
And,  indeed,  sometime  after,  he  came  to  my  house  to 
explain  it,  as  a  mark  of  peculiar  confidence,  so  that  I 
now  have  the  old  man's  legacy  with  which  to  bless  the 
world.  Forty  years  had  not  been  enough  to  perfect 
the  machine. 

When  we  reached  the  top  of  Quartz  Hill,  a  sudden 
squall  came  sweeping  down  upon  us.  Through  the 
thin  veil  we  could  see  the  white  heads  of  the  Great 
Range  hardly  ten  miles  away.  The  falling  flakes 
concealed  the  sky — the  ordinary  background  of  the 
mountains  —  and  obscured  the  distance  between  us 
and  the  hoary  peaks;  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  these 
massive  neighbors  had  come  close  to  us  through  the 
storm,  their  apparent  height  vastly  increased  by  the 
removal  of  the  blue  sky  over  their  heads.  Often,  as  I 
sit  in  my  study,  I  live  over  again  that  magical  moment, 
in  which  summer  turned  to  winter,  the  ground  whit 
ened,  and  the  Rocky  Range  advanced  upon  us,  in  a  few 
seconds  of  time. 

"  I  am  just  like  that  old  man,"  said  Cephas  with  his 
wintry  beard.  "  The  idea  he  has  in  his  brain  seems  of 


306  THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 

unspeakable  import  to  him;  but  who  else  thinks  so? 
I  have  been  dreaming  for  years  that  I  have  an  educa 
tional  idea  which  will  revolutionize  the  world." 

Then  he  told  me  how  he  had  made  everything  ready 
to  establish  firmly  the  new  education ;  but  by  imperfect 
knowledge  of  men,  lack  of  judgment,  by  the  fault  of 
others,  and  through  ill  health,  the  whole  thing  now 
existed  on  paper  only,  and  could  not  live  except 
through  his  work,  now  ended  or  deferred  for  years 
when  the  favorable  hour  would  be  past.  When  his 
story  was  ended,  I  assumed  the  part  of  Theresa  Panza, 
and  addressed  him  as  follows:  — 

"Without  founding  a  new  education  your  mother, 
Sancho,  brought  you  into  the  world;  without  founding 
a  new  education  you  have  lived  till  now;  and  without  it 
you  will  be  carried  to  your  grave  whenever  it  shall 
please  God.  How  many  folks  are  there  in  the  world, 
who  have  founded  no  new  education  ;  and  yet  they  live 
and  are  reckoned  among  the  people." 

Taking  up  the  cue  of  Cervantes,  my  friend  Cephas 
Sancho  answered, — 

"  I  tell  you  that  did  I  not  expect,  ere  long,  to  see 
myself  the  founder  of  a  college  after  my  own  heart,  I 
vow  I  should  drop  down  dead  upon  the  spot." 

"How  many  dollars,"  I  asked,  "have  you  salted 
down  for  making  an  endowment  in  your  will,  according 
to  your  old  project." 

"Not  one,"  he  replied. 

Bitter  tears,  distilled  by  years  of  hard  contending 
with  poverty  and  disappointment,  filled  his  eyes  as  he 


THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK.  307 

told  me  of  pecuniary  embarrassments,  which  weighed 
upon  him  with  peculiar  force  in  hours  of  physical 
weakness.  He  had,  however,  managed  to  hold  his 
right  in  the  old  house  and  land  of  his  childhood,  the 
crag  and  grave  by  the  sea ;  and  the  rocky  farm  was  fast 
rising  in  value,  since  the  Island  Home  had  been  fre 
quented  as  a  sea-side  resort.  He  hoped  there  would 
be  the  means  of  making  his  estate  square  with  the 
world,  if  he  should  lie  down  suddenly  to  sleep  by  the 
side  of  Helen :  there  might  also  be  a  balance  by  which 
to  fulfil  the  compound  interest  miracle,  and  establish  a 
big  college  within  a  few  centuries.  But  he  assured  me 
that  this  vision  had  been  sadly  disturbed  by  acquaint 
ance  with  the  ways  of  the  world. 

"The  genius  of  our  laws  is  against  the  principle  of 
tying  up  property  for  the  sole  use  of  some  future  gene 
ration,"  said  he.  "Courts  object  to  having  money 
lie  idle.  The  larger  part  of  it  must  do  present  and 
constant  service.  Only  a  fraction  of  the  interest  can 
accumulate,  and  that  for  only  a  limited  time.  In  Eng 
land  where  great  estates  were  no£  to  be  divided  for  a 
century,  the  House  of  Lords  broke  the  will,  because  in 
a  hundred  years  all  the  floating  capital  in  the  country 
would  be  absorbed  by  it.  I  don't,  however,  think  that 
any  legislature  will  interfere  to  break  my  will  lest  it 
interrupt  the  business  of  the  nation. 

"As  I  think  of  all  this,  now,  I  remember  an  old 
dream  of  walking  in  New  York  city.  I  had  to  go  about 
five  miles.  In  order  to  have  a  convenient  piece  of  fur 
niture  to  lie  down  on,  as  I  should  certainly  want  to 


308  THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 

before  returning,  I  took  along  a  settee.  Lest  some  boy 
steal  it,  if  I  should  leave  it  by  the  way,  I  tied  one  end 
of  a  small  cable  to  it  and  made  the  other  end  secure 
down  town.  So  I  walked  with  the  settee  under  my  arm 
uncoiling  the  cable  for  about  three  miles  and  a  half; 
then  climbed  over  a  wall,  sat  down  upon  my  settee  in 
an  orchard,  and  there  left  it  till  my  return.  In  this 
dream  I  had  not  the  slightest  sense  of  incongruity.  I 
seemed  to  myself  to  be  taking  a  perfectly  rational 
course. 

"In  like  manner,  all  my  carefully  elaborated  plans 
for  making  'millions  of  money,  by  leaving  a  small  sum 
to  trustees  for  a  school  several  hundred  years  hence, 
once  seemed  to  me  exactly  the  thing, —  a  capital  idea, 
one  likely  to  revolutionize  society.  But  on  mingling 
with  the  world  I  find  that  I  was  dreaming  in  the  forest 
of  Tragabigzanda. 

"This  confession  holds,  however,  only  in  regard  to 
this  peculiar  method  of  bringing  it  all  about.  The  idea 
itself  of  the  new  education  is  as  sound  as  ever  it  was. 
I  feel  just  as  sure  that  it  is  a  good  thing,  as  our  friend 
down  the  hill  does  of  his  machine  for  perpetual  mo 
tion.  I  have  been  thwarted  in  setting  this  project 
on  foot.  But  if  I  ever  regain  my  health,  I'll  try  it 
again.  And  if  I  don't  succeed,  I  shall  certainly  be 
the  richer  in  soul  for  having  tried  to  do  something 
worthy." 

It  was  some  days  before  this  topic  was  alluded  to 
again.  We  were  in  my  study.  And  Cephas  read  aloud 
the  saying  of  Loyola, — "  If  perchance  the  Society, 


THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK.  309 

which  I  have  begun  and  furthered  with  such  toil, 
should  be  dissolved  or  perish,  after  passing  half  an 
hour  in  prayer,  I  should,  by  God's  help,  have  no  trouble 
from  this  thing,  than  which  none  sadder  could  befall 
me." 

"  This  is  my  prevailing  feeling,"  added  Cephas,  "  in 
regard  to  the  ways  in  which  I  have  tried  to  serve  God 
and  man.  He  whom  I  consult  knows  what  is  best.  I 
sometimes  think  that  all  we  get  out  of  life  is  our  per 
sonal  discipline.  'Walk  before  me,  and  be  thou  per 
fect,'  is  good  advice  for  us  as  for  Abraham.  It  is 
better  to  spend  life  in  trying  to  fulfil  that  ideal  than  to 
spend  it  in  fretting  about  God's  unfulfilled  promises. 
He  will  do  all  things  well,  as  we  shall  see  in  due  time ; 
meantime,  we  are  to  try  to  do  all  things  well." 

One  day,  Cephas  said  he  hoped  sometime  to  hear 
from  Nellie  in  England,  and  that  through  her  help  the 
college  plan  would  triumph. 

His  mind  was  subject  to  great  fluctuation  of  feeling ; 
hours  of  faith  alternating  with  moments  of  dejection. 
Once  full  of  great  purposes,  his  life  was  now  perplexed 
under  common  cares.  His  high  ideals  seemed  to  be 
sinking  like  a  great  range  of  mountains, — "  lost  moun 
tains"  with  bases  deeply  concealed,  barely  showing 
their  heads  above  interminable  beds  of  sand  or  alkali 
desert.  This  indication  of  mental  weakness  alarmed 
me. 

Four  or  five  months,  however,  toned  up  the  man  so 
decidedly,  that  I  began,  with  him,  to  have  hope  for 
the  future. 


310  THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK. 

In  regard  to  the  cherished  school  plan,  there  is  evi 
dence  that  he  secretly  clung  to  his  faith :  although 
some  of  the  notes  he  made  in  these  months,  read  in  the 
light  of  after  days,  may  indicate  the  vagaries  of  a  mind 
imperfect  in  its  balance,  rather  than  that  lofty  confi 
dence  in  his  thought  and  in  God  which  we  call  faith. 
Certain  it  is,  that  he  sometimes  climbed  the  most  pre 
cipitous  crags  or  peaks,  and  made  them  his  altars  for 
still  pleading  with  God  for  those  projects,  to  which  he 
had  been  long  devoted. 

Passing  through  Russell  Gulch  upon  the  road  from 
Central  to  Idaho,  Alp  mountain  is  the  highest  point  on 
our  left.  If  we  turn  at  the  head  of  Virginia  canon  and 
follow  the  ridge  to  this  height,  we  shall  obtain  the  finest 
view  in  the  region.  East  are  the  foot  hills  and  great 
plains.  In  the  north  a  mass  of  grey  hills  are  tumbled 
together,  naked  or  clad  with  trees, —  and  far  away  are 
seen  the  wall-like  crags  on  the  Boulder  road.  All 
along  the  more  distant  northwest  and  west,  we  look 
upon  the  great  Snowy  Range.  On  the  south,  the  gi 
gantic  Chief  and  his  family  rise  beyond  the  deep  canon 
of  South  Clear  creek,  whose  waters  are  dashing  white 
three  thousand  feet  below. 

Standing  here  one  day,  I  saw  heavy  squalls  rising  in 
the  southwest,  pouring  over  the  head  of  Mt.  Bierstadt 
into  the  bosom  of  the  Chicago  lakes.  Finding  a  big 
crooked  pine,  with  rocky  seats  under  it,  a  little  south 
east  from  the  highest  point  of  the  hill,  I  had  perfect 
shelter;  and  gazed  upon  the  strange  and  shifting 
scenery  of  the  storm.  The  distant  crags  of  the  moun- 


THE  EARTHQUAKE'S  SHOCK.  3" 

tains  on  the  horizon  were  covered  with  the  advancing 
squadrons  of  the  rain ;  and  soon  their  uppermost  val 
leys  were  filled.  All  along  the  Range  dark  clouds 
rolled  up  from  the  west,  and  quickly  distributed  their 
weight  of  waters  over  every  hill  side.  In  riding  down 
the  wood-road  to  Russell  Gulch,  returning  to  Central,  I 
encountered  another  shower, —  this  time  the  yellow 
leaves  of  the  aspen. 

It  was,  according  to  Cephas'  papers,  upon  this  wild 
ridge,  by  the  side  of  a  fallen  pine,  that,  in  a  moment  of 
semi-madness  or  of  ecstatic  faith,  my  friend  saw  —  far 
beyond  all  the  natural  beauty  around  him  —  rising  in 
every  land  schools  of  that  particular  order  for  which  he 
had  so  long  toiled  and  prayed.  A  needle  from  that 
pine  was  taken  by  him  as  a  witness  to  his  fervent  faith ; 
and  he  made  marks  on  a  pocket  map  of  the  world,  as 
if  his  faith  and  works  would  some  day  make  no  mean 
conquests  upon  this  globe. 


312  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 


XXVII. 
THE  WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

THERE  was  opposite  my  house  on  the  Pat  Casey 
road  an  unoccupied  house,  and  I  often  used  the 
shady  side  of  the   roof,  which  could  be  easily 
reached  from  the  hillside  above,  as  my  study  on  a 
Sunday  morning.     It  was   here, — with   several   goats 
and  a  donkey  standing  or  wandering  upon  the  rocks 
near  by,  and  myself  upon  the  roof,  for  auditors, —  that 
Cephas  one  day  read   a  paper  he  had  just  written. 
The  tone  of  the  manuscript  was  in  strange  contrast 
with  the  somewhat  ludicrous  surroundings. 

"THE  DYING  STUDENT. 

"A  man  lays  out  a  plan  for  years  of  study.  Ill 
health  cuts  out  months  at  a  time;  and  for  years  he 
must  roam  the  pastures,  like  a  brute  over  mountains 
and  plains.  It  may  be  little  loss  to  the  world ;  but  to 
him  it  is  inexpressibly  sad.  For  a  long  time  I  have 
wished  I  cotfld  pick  up  my  papers.  My  attempts  to 
study  are  constantly  interrupted  by  the  vision  of  death 
peering  in  upon  me,  and  asking, — "Who  is  going  to 


THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN.  31 3 

take  care  of  all  these  illegible  things  you  call  ideas  ? " 
Years  ago,  however,  I  wrote  over  my  pigeon  holes, — 
*  Thy  will  be  done.'  With  that  I  brave  the  fire  which 
may  burn  them,  or  sudden  death.  And  I  am  almost 
ready  to  say, — 'Thy  will  be  done,' — if  I  shall  endure 
the  penalty  of  over-work,  and  sit  day  by  day  with 
diseased  brain  and  let  my  life  go  by  in  idleness, — 

"'As  I  have  seen  the  pine, 
Famed  for  its  travels  o'er  the  sea, 
Broken  with  storms  and  age,  decline, 
And  in  some  creek  unpitied  rot  away.' 

"Long  since,  I  began  to  turn  away  from  the  open 
doors  of  libraries,  more  precious  to  me  than  the 
treasure  houses  of  kings.  Certain  studies  I  have  had 
to  defer  till  I  can  take  them  up  in  the  eternal  world. 
I  must  now  begin  to  tie  up  my  work.  The  body  is 
breaking  up,  and  the  labor  of  all  my  years  is  like  a  ship 
yard  with  some  keels  laid,  some  timber  in  shape — and 
a  world  of  chips.  Sooner  or  later  it  comes  to  every 
man  that  the  life  work  must  be  laid  down.  I  am 
brought  to  this  moment  in  middle  life.  I  hear  a  voice, 
saying, — '  Set  thine  house  in  order :  for  thou  shalt  die, 
and  not  live.'  'My  days  are  past,  my  purposes  are 
broken  off,  even  the  thoughts  of  my  heart.' 

"  How  many  poets  and  artists  die  with  poem,  paint 
ing  and  sculpture  in  their  souls  unwrought.  Within  a 
few  days,  I  have  read  the  sad  sweet  story  of  Maurice 
de  Gue'rin  and  his  sister  Eugdnie.  Death  cut  off  the 
brother  early,  then  the  sister  before  she  could  publish 


314  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

what  he  had  written.  Such  simple  piety,  unaffected 
modesty,  sprightliness,  beauty  of  homely  life,  genuine 
genius  graceful  and  natural,  does  not  bless  our  world 
once  in  five  centuries.  Their  lives  were  poems  of 
singular  beauty  and  power,  read  by  few.  Did  they  fail 
of  the  highest  success  in  life,  because  their  fame  was  so 
limited  ?  How  well  does  Disraeli,  the  elder,  compare 
the  early  death  of  students  to  the  death  of  infants  and 
young  children.  We  can  easily  count  up  many  of  great 
promise,  cut  off  before  thirty  years  old.  Men  stand  by, 
and  coldly  say  of  one  that  he  worked  too  hard : 

"'A  fiery  soul,  that  work-ing  out  its  way, 

Fretted  the  pigmy  body  to  decay, 

And  o'er  informed  the  tenement  of  clay.' 

"  Some  days  I  feel  like  a  sailor  upon  his  plank  in  mid- 
ocean,  soon  to  sink  into  the  deep  waters  alone.  '  Many 
a  vital  spirit  has  departed,  over  which  no  one  has 
wept.'  Life  after  life  is  ended,  and  upon  the  tomb 
is  placed  this  epitaph, — 'Like  all  lives,  this  was  a 
tragedy:  high  hopes,  noble  efforts,  under  thickening 
difficulties  and  increasing  impediments;  ever  new  no 
bleness  of  valiant  effort, —  and  the  result,  death,  with 
conquest  by  no  means  corresponding.'  And  we  do  not 
even  stop  to  ask  who  wrote  these  words,  indicating  an 
author  who  experienced  the  common  lot  of  man. 

"  Often  in  the  night  I  have  risen  to  pray,  'Hide  not 
thy  face  from  me;  put  not  thy  servant  away  in  anjer.' 
I  said, —  O  my  God,  take  me  not  away  in  the  midst  of 
my  days.  But  he  has  weakened  my  strength  in  the 


THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN.  315 

way ;  He  has  cut  off  my  days  with  pining  sickness :  I 
am  counted  with  them  that  go  down  into  the  pit.  In 
vain  I  cry, —  What  profit  is  there  in  my  blood  ?  Shall 
the  dust  praise  Thee  ?  shall  it  declare  Thy  truth  ?  I 
shall  be  soon  forgotton,  as  a  dead  man  out  of  mind ; 
free  among  the  dead,  like  the  slain  that  lie  in  the  grave. 
But  an  unfinished  life  with  all  its  unfulfilled  ambitions 
is  complete,  if  heaven  is  grafted  on  the  cut  stalk.  If  I 
receive  with  thankfulness  life's  best  discipline,  it  will  be 
more  pleasing  to  God  than  any  monument  of  spiritual 
labor  that  I  can  raise  as  a  memorial  of  my  life." 

"  I  confess  to  you,  Edward,"  added  Cephas,  "  that  I 
have  sometimes  struggled  hard  with  my  destiny  \  and 
tried  to  win  from  it  a  few  more  years  of  toil,  that  if 
possible  I  may  finish  my  papers  and  perpetuate  my  life 
in  print." 

"As  to  the  first  part  of  your  remarks,  Cephas,"  I 
replied,  "  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea  that  you  are 
going  to  die  yet  awhile.  I  have  seen  many  a  man  over 
worked,  and  if  he  once  gets  into  a  thoroughly  morbid 
state,  so  that  his  personal  adventures  seem  to  him  more 
important  than  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires,  he  is  likely 
to  turn  about  and  get  well.  When  the  condition  of 
one's  head,  and  the  number  of  hours  in  which  he  can 
lose  consciousness  in  sleep,  occupy  the  mind  in  place 
of  spiritual  projects  to  modify  society  age  after  age,  the 
chance  is  that  he  will  sleep  and  take  care  of  his  head 
instead  of  bothering  about  society  and  distant  ages. 
You  have  studied  so  much  out  of  doors  all  your  life, 
that  you  cannot  go  out  now  without  studying.  If 


31 6  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

you  will  change  your  tactics  and  live  in  the  open  air, 
pecking  about  without  thinking  any  more  than  a  hen, 
you  will  live  to  do  as  much  work  as  you  ought  to  do. 

"  For  the  other  point  you  made,  about  printing 
books,  you  remember  that  when  you  and  I  were  boys 
together  in  New  Hampshire,  we  used  to  see  the  wild 
geese  flying  over  spring  and  autumn ;  but  we  never 
thought  it  worth  while  to  inquire  the  name  of  the 
goose  leading  the  harrow.  When  the  students  of  future 
generations  go  pillaging  libraries,  and  see  your  book 
at  one  end  of  a  shelf  in  some  immense  library,  they 
will  never  think  to  inquire  what  your  initials,  'C.  T.,' 
stand  for.  '  Cephas  Timothy '  will  not  mean  so  much 
to  them  as  it  does  to  you.  But  you  will  be  amply 
avenged  on  most  of  them,  who  will  live  and  die  as  ob 
scurely  as  yourself:  and  their  attempts  to  gain  what 
you  call  a  permanent  usefulness,  will  not  be  much 
helped  or  hindered,  whether  you  happen  to  leave  two 
books  or  three  as  your  'Works'  on  that  shelf, —  not 
even  if  they  should  pluck  leaf  by  leaf  like  feathers  from 
a  goose." 

"  When  I  sailed,  some  summers  ago,  along  the  coast 
of  Campo  Bello,"  replied  Cephas,  "  the  fog  veiled  the 
cliffs;  and  an  echo  returned  to  me  from  the  unseen 
shore.  The  lives  of  most  of  us  are  really  as  trivial  as 
that  echo,  so  far  as  concerns  the  great  world  and  ages 
of  history, —  a  sound  from  out  the  darkness  of  some 
unknown  land,  by  chance  reaching  the  ear  of  a  passing 
voyager  and  then  heard  no  more  forever.  Life  is  like 
a  sigh  borne  over  the  sea  waves  on  the  wind. 


THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN.  31? 

"  When  I  have  been  lying  down  by  the  side  of  pools 
and  brooks  in  the  woods,  I  have  spent  many  hours  in 
watching  the  common  water-skater  (hydrometer  stagno- 
runi).  He  glides  about  the  water  a  few  days,  perishes, 
and  another  takes  his  place;  yet  their  generation  is 
ever  known  upon  the  earth.  So  I  sit  in  my  study  on 
an  evening  beside  an  open  fire;  I  ^  glide  about  busily 
for  a  few  days  among  my  parishioners,  and  under  the 
eye  of  any  stranger  who  may  chance  to  pass  that  way ; 
then  I  am  known  no  more  on  the  earth  forever.  Still, 
age  after  age,  the  generations  of  obscure  students  fail 
not.  The  swift  skater  and  the  plodding  student  fulfil 
their  work  in  the  economy  of  nature  or  of  human  life, 
and  then  go  their  way. 

"  But  as  I  sit  by  my  evening  fire  I  am  dreaming  of  a 
home  and  a  career  in  the  skies,  where  I  shall  serve 
amid  numbers  without  number  as  king  and  priest  for 
ever.  What  matters  it  then  if  I  have  no  fame  upon  the 
earth  or  peculiar  glory  on  high,  since  I  am  sporting  in 
the  divine  light  day  by  day.  I  look  forward  gladly  to 
the  hour  when  I  shall  be  numbered  with  the  unknown 
dead ;  and  another  shall  build  the  fire  upon  my  hearth, 
study  at  my  window  and  move  about  the  town  as  I  do 
now." 

As  we  returned  to  my  home,  I  found  the  words  of 
Antoninus :  — "  Short  is  the  time  which  every  man  lives, 
and  small  the  nook  of  the  earth  where  he  lives;  and 
short,  too,  the  longest  posthumous  fame,  and  even  this 
only  continued  by  a  succession  of  poor  human  beings, 
who  will  very  soon  die,  and  who  know  not  even  them 
selves,  much  less  him  who  died  long  ago." 


3*8  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

"  He  is  the  wisest  man,"  said  my  friend,  "who  works 
hardest  for  to-day,  if  he  does  his  work  as  well  as 
he  can.  The  only  immortality  worth  seeking  is  an 
undying  influence  —  not  reputation.  Influence  is  im 
personal,  unknown ;  reputation  pertains  to  a  name. 
No  matter  whether  or  not  the  men  of  the  future  happen 
to  know  your  name ;  if  they  are  unconsciously  modified 
by  your  life,  it  is  enough.  We  are  not  to  search  for 
deathless  fame,  but  for  posthumous  power  though  it  be 
nameless :  that  is  gained  not  necessarily  by  authorship, 
but  through  the  sway  conscious  and  unconscious  we 
are  exercising  every  day  upon  the  men  around  us. 

"  Unless  a  man's  life  is  better  than  his  books,  his 
books  will  be  good  for  nothing.  To  do  good  to  our 
next  neighbor,  to  search  out  the  children  of  sorrow,  to 
make  one's  life  noble,  is  better  than  mere  book  making. 
To  have  a  moral  hold  on  men  now  living  is  the  way  to 
obtain  mastery  in  the  next  age  of  the  world. 

"  A  man  dies,  and  henceforth  his  influence  is  most 
likely  not  called  by  his  name,  but  his  life-work  is  still  a 
power  in  the  world :  as  the  water  from  a  river  becomes 
a  part  of  the  ocean  current  after  it  has  lost  the  name  it 
was  known  by.  Indeed,  there  are  cases  in  which 
mighty  men  make  a  personal  impression  on  the  world 
after  they  die,  as  the  Amazon  preserves  its  integrity 
for  a  few  score  of  miles  amid  the  sea  waves ;  but  the 
great  bulk  of  mankind  die  as  die  the  brooks  and  small 
rivers,  falling  into  the  sea  and  making  no  noticeable 
impression, —  yet  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that 
there  is  no  impression  made.  I  die  tonight;  but  the 


THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN.  319 

members  of  my  own  family  and  of  my  own  circle  of 
acquaintance  will  never  be  again  as  if  I  had  not  known 
them.  My  influence  upon  them  for  evil  or  for  good 
will  be  perpetuated  in  them,  and  through  them  to 
others,  modifying  remote  generations :  it  will  live  for- 
evermore  enduring  as  the  waters  of  the  deep,  with 
countless  changes,  a  power  through  all  ages." 

"Did  you  never  think,"  I  asked,  "that  ill  health 
brings  a  compensation  with  it  when  it  keeps  a  man 
always  ready  for  the  upper  house  ?  By  it  one  is  always 
ready  to  exchange  his  pilgrim  staff  for  the  wings  of  an 
angel." 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  " Today  in  talking  with  a  sick 
man,  I  reminded  him  of  the  old  illustration  about  the 
Arabian  tents: — they  pull  up  one  tent  pin  after  an 
other,  and  then  carry  away  the  tent.  So  we  lose  one 
faculty,  as  this  man  of  locomotion;  then  some  other 
power,  and  then  our  bodies  are  removed.  *  How  glad 
we  should  be,'  I  said,  '  when  the  signs  of  removal  come, 
and  one  tent  pin  after  another  is  taken  away.'  It 
flashed  upon  me  in  a  moment,  that  this  terrible  head 
ache  I  have  had  so  long  is  to  prepare  me  for  my  depar 
ture.  Even  now  in  what  I  have  supposed  to  be  middle 
life,  I  have  sure  tokens  of  death  about  me.  And  am  I 
glad?  I  thought  about  my  unfinished  work;  but  with 
unspeakable  joy  said  at  once, — '  I  am  ready.  Though 
my  work  is  half  done,  my  purpose  is  perfect ;  and  my 
aspirations  are  perfect.  The  work  that  I  can  do  here 
is  small ;  and  the  heavenly  work  is  ample  enough.  If 
I  may  enter  upon  that  world  I  will  instantly  drop  my 


320  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

present  employments,  like  an  artist  suddenly  called  to 
a  throne.' 

"I  am  ready  to  drop  earthly  work,  and  look  for  the 
same  service  in  another  sphere.  I  would  gladly  die  if 
I  must,  in  the  midst  of  my  years.  And  the  thought  of 
being  unknown  upon  the  earth  will  not  disturb  my 
dying  pillow  or  the  moments  next  beyond." 

"What  avails  it,"  he  asked,  after  an  interval  of 
silence,  "this  buzzing  about  like  a  gadfly?  To  live 
personally  near  to  Christ,  is  worth  more  than  all  we 
call  our  activities." 

Long  after  we  had  retired  for  the  night,  I  rose  and 
walked  my  study  floor  in  the  bright  moonlight.  In  the 
Colorado  mountains  it  is  easy  to  read  by  a  full  moon. 
I  took  down  my  Whittier,  and  found  these  lines, — 

"  The  yearning  of  the  mind  is  stilled, — 
I  ask  not  now  for  fame. 

But,  bowed  in  lowliness  of  mind, 

I  make  my  wishes  known ; 
I  only  ask  a  will  resigned, 

O  Father,  to  thine  own. 

In  vain  I  task  my  aching  brain, 

The  sage's  thoughts  to  scan ; 
I  only  feel  how  weak  I  am, 

How  poor  and  blind  is  man. 

And  now  my  spirit  sighs  for  home, 

And  longs  for  light  to  see. 
And,  like  a  weary  child,  would  come, 

O  Father,  unto  Thee." 


THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN.  321 

Several  mornings  after,  we  went  to  the  top  of  Bald 
Mountain  before  sunrise.  The  light  was  stealing  over 
the  great  plains  eastward,  and  touching  the  tops  of  the 
foot  hills.  From  southwest  to  northwest  the  snow-clad 
mountains  were  rose-tinted  with  the  rays  of  the  dawn. 
The  deep  canon  at  our  feet  upon  the  west  was  still  dark. 
We  did  not  feel  a  breath  of  air ;  but  the  change  in  the 
state  of  the  atmosphere  upon  the  east  of  the  Great 
Range  caused  by  the  advancing  day,  drew  the  colder 
air  upon  the  west  of  the  mountains  eastward:  and  we 
could  hear  the  sound  of  its  coming  ten  miles  away ; 
mountain  crags  and  pines  roaring  like  the  sea  in  a 
storm.  My  ears  are  like  sea-shells  far  inland,  and  I 
am  always  awake  to  the  sound  of  the  ocean;  so  that 
the  murmuring  mountains  aroused  at  once  all  my  old 
passion  for  the  sea. 

"Which  do  you  like  best,"  I  asked,  turning  to  my 
companion,  "the  mountains  or  the  sea?" 

But  I  saw  him  deadly  pale ;  and  he  made  no  answer. 
The  sea  to  him  meant  only  a  wreck,  and  the  stranger 
dead  —  so  like  his  Helen.  A  sound  like  the  deep  sea 
waves  touched  the  sensitive  spot  in  his  brain.  We 
turned  away;  and  he  was  sadly  ill  all  that  day.  So 
easily  was  his  physical  condition  affected  by  mental 
causes ;  and  his  mind  was  elevated  or  depressed  by  the 
state  of  his  body. 

Day  by  day  we  read  Scott's  novels.  One  evening, 
Cephas  said  as  he  laid  down  the  book, — 

"  I  would  like  to  read  over  again  the  Pirate,  which  I 
have  not  looked  at  for  years,  if  there  were  not  so  much 
12 


322  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

ragged  coast  and  surging  brine  in  it.  I  often  think 
nowadays,  that  I  am  like  Norna  of  Fitful  Head.  I 
have  not  dreamed  that  I  could  control  the  powers  of 
nature ;  but  I  have  lived  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  thinking 
evermore  of  a  high  mission  to  perform  in  life, —  adven 
tures  in  shaping  new  countries  for  Christ,  book  making, 
and  school  building ;  and  I  have  had  visions  of  angels 
ascending  and  descending  in  my  daily  walks.  Now, 
however,  my  brain  reels,  I  doubt  myself,  and  my 
projects  look  a  little  mad.  Last  night,  I  spent  two 
hours  wide  awake, —  when  I  ought  to  have  been  fast 
asleep, —  in  thinking  about  the  wretched  accumulation 
of  bits  of  paper,  which  I  have  called  ideas,  so  carefully 
preserved  in  my  pigeon  holes.  I  am  ready  to  cry  out 
with  the  dying  Tasso,  and  ask  my  friends  to  burn  them 
all,  especially  those  I  have  thought  the  most  of ;  as  his 
morbid  mind  was  most  set  against  his  favorite  work 
'Jerusalem  Delivered.5  I  have  done  all  I  could;  but 
my  own  inefficiency  has  made  me  disappointed  with 
myself.  I  have  had  high  ideals. 

*  I  was  ambitious     *    *    *  ; 
But  never  did  king,  pontiff,  chief,  or  citizen 
Conceive  a  project  grand  as  mine.' 

I  was  ambitious;  but  I  failed  in  sound  judgment.  It 
has  been  the  old  story  over  again, — the  laying  out  of 
works  never  to  be  finished;  the  same  blunder  which 
hundreds  of  students  have  made  before  me.  Great 
preparation  have  I  made  for  writing,  which  now  seems 
to  me  waste  of  labor.  My  industry  is  lost  through  lack 


THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN.  323 

of  well  proportioned  'roundabout  common  sense'  in 
undertaking  so  much  only  as  I  could  do.  The  start 
ling  truth  is  coming  home  to  me  that  my  early  dreams 
have  all  failed.  I  have  tried  to  achieve  what  was  for 
me  impossible. 

"I  certainly  thought  myself  equal  to  the  work.  I 
have  been  conscious  of  a  mental  power  not  put  forth 
in  my  writings.  No  topic  is  handled  according  to  the 
ideal  I  have  in  mind.  I  cannot  in  this  world  bring  out 
the  powers  which  I  know  are  slumbering  within.  Not 
yet  can  I  paint  Christ  as  He  appears  to  me.  To  learn 
to  write  has  been  always  before  my  mind  as  my  highest 
ideal  and  aim  in  life.  I  have  utterly  failed.  My  style 
is  bad  —  unmanageable.  I  have  gained  little  informa 
tion  ;  what  I  have,  is  ill  digested.  My  health  is  break 
ing  up. — You  might  as  well  take  the  stuff  which  I  have 
prized  above  gold,  and  put  match  to  it.  It'll  catch 
quick  as  gas.  Here  is  the  key  of  my  pigeon  holes. 
Do  what  you  have  a  mind  to  with  my  papers :  I  shall 
never  look  at  them  again." 

I  could  see  fhat  my  friend  was  getting  a  little  wild, 
and  I  said  nothing  on  the  topic;  but  began  to  rattle 
the  dice,  taking  out  a  backgammon  board,  which  always 
brought  him  to  his  senses.  He  was  fond  of  the  game 
requiring  no  thought,  and  played  at  it  by  the  half  hour 
with  me  though  never  with  any  one  else.  But  before 
he  took  a  shake,  he  threw  down  the  key  which  locked 
his  papers  \  and  said, — 

"  We  read,  in  the  New  Testament,  about  dumb  devils 
and  unclean  devils.  Now,  all  my  life  I  have  been 


324  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

possessed  at  times  with  a  vain  devil ;  and  he  has  made 
some  notes,  mixing  them  in  with  my  papers.  I  would 
they  were  out;  but  you  will  see  them." 

In  looking  over  Cephas'  manuscripts  in  recent 
months,  I  have,  indeed,  found  some  notes  which  indi 
cated  that  at  times  he  had  a  morbid  self  consciousness, 
as  if  all  that  he  did  was  in  the  world's  eye.  According 
to  these  memoranda,  he,  sometimes  at  least,  firmly 
believed  that  his  educational  plan  would  become  one  of 
the  most  important  fixtures  of  this  world;  and  that  this 
fact  would  gain  him  readers  he  would  not  otherwise 
get ;  and  also  that  on  this  account  his  life  experiences 
would  be  possessed  of  an  interest  they  would  not  excite 
under  other  circumstances.  Some  of  these  notes  which 
he  attributed  to  the  vain  devil  certainly  read  a  little 
strangely  in  my  friend's  handwriting ;  for  he  was  to  all 
outward  appearance  the  most  modest  of  men, —  rarely 
referring  to  his  own  work  and  turning  off  quickly  any 
compliment  made  to  him,  diverting  the  conversation  if 
his  own  good  deeds  were  spoken  of.  Yet,  I  have  a 
feeling  that  his  was  an  infirmity  common  to  man. 
Indeed,  I  could  myself  have  written  the  following  sen 
tence,  which  I  find  signed  at  the  bottom, — "  Vain 
Devil." 

'•'  I  sometimes  sigh  to  be  praised ;  and  on  Sabbath  or 
week  day  wish  some  one  would  speak  an  appreciative 
word."  But  there  is  on  the  back  of  it  this  endorse 
ment, — "  I  cannot  find  that  Christ  ever  thought  of  such 
a  thing." 

In  looking  over  Cephas'  pigeon  holes,  which  has  now 


THE    WORK  LAID   DOWN.  325 

been  my  employment  for  some  time,  I  find  directions 
for  me  to  do  thus  and  so, —  as  if  he  had  contemplated 
the  possibility  of  these  papers  coming  into  my  hands. 
I  am  not  prepared  to  condemn  his  manuscripts  whole 
sale  as  thoroughly  as  he  did.  It  is  certain,  however, 
that  he  well  described  some  of  them  when  he  marked 
on  a  paper  band  by  which  one  pile  of  papers  was 
strapped  together, — 

"  Monstrum  horrendum,  informe,  ingens,  cui  lumen,  ademptum." 

Which,  by  his  own  free  translation,  means,  "  monstrous 
and  horrid,  unformed  and  blind,  needing  a  pine  tree 
for  support,"  etc.  In  making  a  critical  estimate  of  my 
friend's  work,  I  cannot  say  that  he  had  extraordinary 
success  in  his  sermon  making.  Yet  —  taking  all  his 
ideas  jotted  down  upon  little  bits  of  old  envelopes, 
ragged  strips  of  ribbon  paper,  fragments  white  brown 
and  yellow  —  I  find  many  thoughts  singularly  inspiring. 
I  look  at  them  and  say  in  despair, — "What  an  in 
heritance  ! "  There  are,  also,  some  manuscripts  cleanly 
prepared  which  I  think  others  will  value  highly  as  I  do, 
if  the  time  ever  comes  to  put  any  part  of  them  before 
the  public. 

But  all  this  is  aside  from  the  point  in  hand.  I  have 
been  led  into  this  opening  of  Cephas'  pigeon  holes  by 
the  key  he  threw  that  evening  upon  my  backgammon 
board.  After  the  game  closed,  I  opened  Emerson's 
Essays,  and  read  to  Cephas  :  — "  I  look  on  that  man  as 
happy,  who,  when  there  is  question  of  success,  looks 
into  his  work  for  a  reply,  not  into  the  market,  not  into 
opinion,  not  into  patronage."  And  I  added, — "You 


326  THE    WORK  LAID  DOWN. 

have  been  long  conscious  that  you  were  trying  to  do  a 
good  work ;  and  you  ought  not  to  throw  up  everything 
in  discouragement,  in  one  moment  of  depression  in 
duced  by  overwork." 

After  this,  Cephas'  health  mended  so  rapidly  and 
decidedly,  that  within  a  month,  he  set  off  upon  a  long 
talked  of  journey  to  Idaho  and  Montana ;  hoping  to  be 
able  to  return  within  a  twelve  month  to  the  Pacific 
coast.  He  was  buoyant  and  hopeful,  quite  like  himself, 
and  I  had  no  anticipation  of  evil.  When  we  separated 
at  the  end  of  Bates'  Hill  overhanging  Black  Hawk,  I 
put  into  his  hand  a  card  with  these  directions :  — 

"NEVER  OVERDO  IN  ANY  ONE  DAY, —  eating,  walking, 
spiritual  exercises,  study,  parochial  work,  or  preaching ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  do  enough  of  each  to  have  a 
well  proportioned  life.  You  may  thus  keep  your  soul 
in  your  body  till  you  are  sixty." 

And  when  I  waved  my  adieu,  I  said, — "  Into  three 
doors  enter  not:  enter  the  door  of  no  parishioner's 
house ;  enter  not  the  door  of  your  meeting  house ;  and 
enter  not  your  study  door.  My  prescription  for  a 
twelve-month." 

After  Cephas  had  turned  his  back,  he  looked  about 
again,  and  shouted, — 

"  Ed !  If  you  ever  print  any  of  my  papers,  make  sure 
to  put  plenty  of  yeast  into  the  dough." 

It  was 

"  Like  a  fire  upblazihg  ere  it  dies, — " 
for  I  never  saw  him  again. 


BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER.  327 


XXVIII. 
BLACKHAWK   TO    BOULDER. 

SOME  weeks  after,  I  was  called  one  Saturday  after 
noon,  to  ride  thirty  miles  across  the  hills  to  ex 
change  with  one  of  my  nearest  neighbors.  There 
had  been  a  little  misunderstanding  about  it,  and  I  was 
not  expecting  to  go ;  so  that  it  was  three  o'clock  before 
I  was  under  way.  Cantering  down  the  Casey  Road  in 
Central,  and  plunging  over  into  Chase's  Gulch, —  as 
one  would  ride  over  the  rim  of  a  kettle  and  wind  down 
its  steep  side  into  the  bottom, —  I  passed  Blackhawk 
and  soon  entered  the  way  leading  by  Carl's  Ranch  to 
Boulder. 

For  three  or  four  miles,  perhaps  —  I  have  forgotten 
just  how  far  —  there  is  an  ascent,  up,  up;  and  looking 
back  the  long  ravine,  one  sees  Mount  Bierstadt,  with 
sharp  precipices,  snow-clad  head  and  white  shoulders, 
rising  grandly  in  the  south.  After  my  morning's 
study,  I  felt  wonderfully  refreshed  by  the  clear  air,  and 
cheered  by  the  visions  of  beauty  and  grandeur  around 
me.  I  wished  that  some  of  my  brethren  in  the  east, 
moiling  in  hot  towns  and  weary  with  care,  could  ride 
with  me.  And  I  wondered  then,  as  since,  that  it  is  so 


328  BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER. 

difficult  to  get  men  to  leave  the  climate  of  New  Eng 
land  to  dwell  in  a  country  where  existence  is  a  delight, 
and  a  cloudless  sky  is  always  inviting  one  to  live  out  of 
doors.  But  too  many,  I  fear,  feel  like  Cuddy  Head- 
rigg  in  the  story,  a  great  dread  lest  they  "  hae  to  gang 
to  a  far  country,  maybe  twall  or  fifteen  miles  aff." 

Not  unnaturally,  as  my  black  horse  toiled  slowly  up 
the  hill,  I  fell  to  thinking  upon  the  comforts  and  advan 
tages  of  open  air  life  in  a  good  climate.  I  thought, 
how  strange  it  is  that  story-tellers  make  their  characters 
stay  so  much  in  parlors  and  live  evermore  in  public. 
In  certain  moods,  I  hate  houses,  and  dislike  overmuch 
company.  And  I  went  on  dreaming  about  the  influ 
ence  which  a  clear  atmosphere  and  sweet  sunshine  has 
upon  the  imagination. 

Dripping  with  the  brine  of  the  western  ocean,  and 
wide  awake  and  keen  through  breathing  the  air  of  the 
western  mountains,  we  have  recently  found  a  story 
teller  who  has  put  new  life  into  the  business.  But  I 
notice  that  in  one  of  his  most  thrilling  sketches,  there 
is  a  minute  report  of  the  dying  words  and  deeds  of  a 
party  who  were  snowed  in,  and  who  all  perished  before 
aid  could  reach  them.  The  author  gives  no  hint  of 
spirit-rappings;  but  from  no  other  source  could  he 
have  obtained  an  authentic  report  of  their  last  words. 
Riding  up  this  lonely  mountain  road,  when  I  came  near 
the  top  of  the  hill, —  and  looked  back  toward  the  basin 
of  Chicago  Lake  and  the  broken  precipices  and  peaks 
that  surround  it,  and  the  dark  ravines  flowing  clown 
the  skirts  of  the  mountains, —  I  had  almost  made  up 


BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER.  329 

my  mind  if  ever  I  should  write  a  story, —  and  I  inwardly 
said,  "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog  that  he  should  do  this 
thing?" — that  I  would  have  nothing  going  on  in  it 
which  I  did  not  know  about  directly.  I  would  not,  I 
thought,  report  conversations  occurring  in  deep  window 
seats  by  moonlight,  or  in  gardens  between  two  alone 
unless  I  should  make  one  of  the  two. 

Inwardly  determining  always  to  stick  to  fact  if  I 
should  ever  tell  tales,  even  at  a  little  sacrifice  of  variety 
in  the  make-up  of  my  story,  I  galloped  quite  merrily 
for  several  miles,  along  a  heavy  mountain  wall  rising 
on  the  right ;  which  I  have  called  the  Crawford  Crags, 
since  my  predecessor  is  the  only  man  I  could  find,  who 
had  climbed  these  formidable  heights.  Then  I  drove 
into  the  woodlands,  following  streams -where  trout  were 
leaping  and  sparkling  by  the  roadside.  Often  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  snow-clad  mountains  in  the  west,  not  near 
and  not  distant. 

By  this  time  I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind,  not  only 
to  live  out  of  doors  all  my  future  life  as  I  always  had 
done — except  a  few  disagreeable  hours  in  houses  which 
I  never  called  really  living  —  but  I  had  settled  it  that 
all  imaginary  heroes  I  might  call  up  in  making  parables 
should  also  live  abroad  under  the  clean  heavens.  That 
was  a  sensible  saint,  thought  I,  who  is  buried  near 
Bokhara  in  Central  Asia,  who  —  so  notable  as  to  be  a 
sort  of  second  Mohammed  —  has  determined  dead  or 
alive  to  have  fresh  air ;  so  that,  according  to  travelers' 
tales,  for  four  hundred  years  more  or  less,  he  has  re 
sisted  every  attempt  to  cover  his  tomb  with  a  dome 


330  BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER. 

and  thrown  off  the  cover  within  three  days  after  it  was 
done. 

At  this  point,  I  was  riding  past  a  very  remarkable 
pulpit  rock,  two  or  three  hundred  feet  above  the  road, 
on  the  right  just  before  reaching  Tyler's  mill ;  and  I 
thought  of  the  great  delight  Cephas  would  have  taken 
in  trying  that  pulpit.  Then  I  remembered  his  eccen 
tric  chase  over  the  Sierra.  And  I  called  up  the  re 
markable  adventures  I  had  experienced,  once  and 
again,  with  his  pursuer ;  of  whom  I  had  not  now  heard 
for  perhaps  three  years.  I  could  not  rid  myself  of  the 
memory  of  this  wild  and  wicked,  though — as  I  then 
hoped  —  penitent  man.  He  seemed  to  be  riding  be 
side  me,  as  the  shadows  began  to  fall.  And  when, 
near  Carl's  Ranch,  I  came  upon  the  massive  towers  of 
rock,  which  rise  castle-like  scarcely  possible  to  be 
scaled  by  human  foot,  I  instinctively  turned  to  point 
my  imaginary  companion  to  the  striking  features  of 
the  landscape.  Very  soon  I  stood  upon  the  verge  of 
the  mountain  plateau  I  had  been  riding  over;  and  I 
was  about  to  go  down  some  thousands  of  feet  in  a  four 
mile  ride  to  the  depth  of  the  Boulder  canon.  From 
this  edge  of  the  mountain,  the  deep  forest-clad  valleys 
are  skirting  to  the  north  and  east;  and  the  plains  are 
seen,  rolling  from  the  base  of  the  mountains,  wide  like 
a  limitless  sea.  In  the  evening  and  the  morning  lights, 
and  under  the  full  moon,  the  picture  is  perfect.  I 
turned  off  the  path  to  the  left  to  rest  my  horse,  and  to 
stretch  myself  under  the  low  trees,  and  to  gaze  out  over 
the  valley  before  descending  into  it. 


BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER.  331 

When  I  again  mounted,  up  dashed  my  Englishman 
in  person,  riding  in  hot  haste  from  Central  to  overtake 
me.  He  was  again  on  the  track  of  Cephas, — who  had 
not  long  before  left  me  for  Idaho  and  Montana.  The 
detective  had  called  at  my  house  soon  after  I  left  it, 
and  having  learned  of  the  late  departure  of  my  friend 
whom  he  had  hoped  to  find  there,  he  was  hurrying  on 
to  overtake  me,  to  get  a  little  more  exact  information 
a.s  he  should  press  forward  in  pursuit. 

After  his  return  to  England  he  had  avoided  his  em 
ployers  of  the  last  chase,  left  his  old  trade,  and  in  con 
nection  with  police  duties  had  given  himself  heartily  to 
doing  good  among  the  poor  and  the  wicked  of  London. 
While  engaged  in  this  work,  he  formed  an  acquaint 
ance  with  the  friends  of  a  woman,  who  gave  him  a 
a  new  errand  in  his  old  work  of  following  wanderers. 
He  was  introduced  to  the  young  mistress  of  a  .fine  man 
sion,  who  was  an  invalid  with  disease  far  advanced. 
She  wished  to  employ  him  in  finding  a  friend,  who  was 
so  ill  that  she  feared  he  would  lose  his  reason,  if  he 
had  not  already  lost  it;  and  who  was  then  moving 
about  the  wilds  of  western  America,  in  search  of 
health.  He  was  to  be  found  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  brought  to  England,  with  the  message  that  all  their 
dreams  of  former  years  could  be  then  fulfilled. 

"By  a  photograph  which  she  showed  me,"  said  the 
detective,  "  taken  two  or  three  years  since,  I  at  once 
recognized  the  New  England  pastor  with  whom  I  went 
to  California,  and  who  became  to  me  a  spiritual  guide. 
Surprised  and  saddened  with  the  news  of  his  ill-health, 


332  BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER. 

and  that  I  was  to  hunt  for  him  as  once  for  another 
madman,  I  told  my  fair  employer  some  parts  of  my 
former  hunting  adventures,  and  what  her  friend  had 
been  to  me.  I  could  see  that  my  story  awakened 
great  agitation.  With  amazement  she  at  last  inter 
rupted  me,  and  then  unraveled  what  was  to  me  a 
strange  riddle.  Her  father  was  bitterly  opposed  to  her 
young  American  friend;  and  wished  her  to  give  her 
hand  to  an  unprincipled  man  of  high  sounding  title, 
who,  upon  her  father's  death,  had  for  a  time  with  two 
others  some  control  over  her  property.  They  were  the 
ones  who  had  sent  me  into  the  California  mountains. 
Then  I  learned  that  her  friend  was  not  only  my  New 
England  pastor,  but  also  the  very  victim  I  sought,  your 
friend ;  and  that  he  like  a  half-crazy  man  had,  as  an 
erratic  freak,  disguised  himself,  and  allowed  me  to 
chase  him  like  a  roe  on  the  mountains:  which,  the 
young  lady  said,  was  just  like  him,  so  wild  and  full  of 
spirits." 

I  cannot  now  detail  the  full  story  as  he  gave  it,  but 
this  was  the  substance. 

As  we  followed  a  nose-like  ridge  flanked  by  deep 
ravines, —  hastening  down  the  mountain  side  till  we 
reached  the  rocky  bed  of  the  Boulder.  I  asked  many 
questions  concerning  the  young  Englishwoman,  who 
proved  to  be  Helen.  So  singularly  did  this  fair  friend 
appear  again.  During  the  years  of  silence,  her  life  and 
Cephas'  destiny  had  been  mingled  by  hands  and  move 
ments  which  neither  could  control.  It  was  her  father 
who  sent  the  detective  to  the  Essex  woods ;  his  execu- 


BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER.  333 

tors  who  sent  the  man  of  blood  into  the  Sierra ;  and  at 
this  time  she  herself  was  searching  for  Cephas,  that 
their  old  plans  might  now  be  carried  out. 

Riding  by  the  side  of  the  creek,  we  were  shut  in  by 
precipitous  walls  from  six  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet 
high;  and  the  valley  was  so  narrow  that  there  was 
hardly  room  for  the  river  and  the  road,  the  stream 
having  six  bridges  in  half  a  mile.  Hurrying  along  the 
wild  path,  we  made  the  walls  of  the  canon  ring  with 
merry  laughter,  as  we  talked  of  the  dangerous  trick  the 
Yankee  minister  had  played  as  a  flying  maniac;  a 
story  I  had  already  often  laughed  and  wondered  over 
since  the  Wild  Man  first  told  it  to  me  on  Telegraph 
Hill.  I  learned,  also,  much  about  Helen  and  her 
family  as  we  rode  close  beside  the  untamed,  foaming 
water,  which  was  often  loud  roaring  and  white  with 
spray.  The  full  moon  threw  a  weird  light  upon  the 
swift  stream,  and  upon  the  grim  walls  that  rose  from 
the  banks ;  and  I  was  wild  with  delight  as  I  cantered 
beside  my  companion  through  the  six  mile  ride  to  the 
mouth  of  the  canon.  We  entered  the  town,  half  a  mile 
from  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  * 

The  night  was  so  enchanting,  that,  going  to  the 
clergyman's  quarters,  I  took  his  camping  blanket,  and 
went  with  the  Englishman  a  little  distance  toward  Val- 
mont;  where  a  solitary  pyramid  like  the  top  of  a 
sinking  mountain  stands  in  the  level  plain,  Here  we 
spent  the  night,  half  in  talking,  half  in  sleeping.  In 
the  morning  we  separated.  I  told  him  all  I  could 
about  my  friend's  plans  of  travel ;  and  he  set  out  upon 
his  track. 


334  BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER. 

From  this  Valmont  hill  and  plain  one  looks  back 
upon  the  mountain  range.  Living  as  I  do  now  in  a 
comparatively  flat  country,  my  mind  often  reverts  to 
that  evening  ride,  the  moonlight  bivouac,  and  the  vis 
ion  of  beauty  which  greeted  my  eyes  when  the  sun  rose 
upon  the  mountains. 

Sabbath  evening,  having  no  service  among  the  scat 
tered  population,  I  rode  by  moonlight  ten  miles  up 
the  ravine  to  Carl's;  where  I  spent  the  night.  My 
Monday  morning  ride  was  filled  to  the  full  of  keen 
enjoyment  by  the  cold  exhilarating  air  of  four  and  five 
o'clock.  It  was  in  early  July,  and  I  drank  from  an  ice 
bound  brook.  But  the  birds  were  singing  when  the 
sun  came  up.  My.  eyes  were  wide  open  to  see  the 
wonders  of  the  mountains ;  and  I  saw  wonders.  A 
sphinx  looked  down  upon  me  from  a  ledge  about  forty 
feet  above  the  road.  It  was  a  loose  boulder  about  six 
feet  in  diameter:  and,  from  a  side  view  at  the  right 
point,  it  presented  a  complete  human  head — a  good 
looking  giant  with  standing  collar;  a  front  view  at  a 
little  distance  showed  ^he  open  mouth  and  teeth  of  an 
animal.  This  was  about  half  a  mile  below  Tyler's  saw 
mill  on  the  South  Boulder.  Up  the  stream  after  cross 
ing  the  bridge,  I  found  a  remarkable  bust  of  a  woman 
standing  out  from  the  mountain  side  high  above  me. 
All  this  region  is  alive  with  grotesque  images. 

I  kept  thinking  all  the  way, — What  a  romantic  thing 
it  is  to  ride  off  for  an  "  exchange  "  in  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains!  I  wished  some  of  my  brethren  in  the  east 


BLACKHAWK  TO  BOULDER.  335 

would  become  home  missionaries  for  awhile.  And  I 
was  glad  to  have  the  pleasant  pictures  of  that  morning 
to  carry  with  me  to  Cape  Anne,  whither  I  almost 
immediately  removed  ;  leaving  the  stern  mountains  and 
the  loved  frontier,  on  account  of  a  foolish  habit  I  have 
of  overworking  for  a  year  or  two,  and  then  idling  a 
year  or  two  more  to  make  up  for  it. 


336  HOUSE  ISLAND. 


XXIX. 
HOUSE   ISLAND. 

IT  was  after  the  leaf  fall,  in  the  lull  which  precedes 
the  winter  winds,  the  true  Indian  summer  time, 
when  I  had  the  next  news  from  Cephas  and  our 
English  friend.  The  latter  was  at  my  house  on  the 
Cape ;  having  a  day  to  wait  before  steaming  to  Hali 
fax, —  from  which  4)lace  he  had  recently  returned. 
When  we  sat  down  in  my  study  in  the  morning,  the  din 
of  the  restless  sea  came  in  at  the  open  windows.  And 
as  we  talked,  the  booming  waters  grew  louder  and 
louder;  and  I  could  not  stay.  We  made  therefore  a 
trip  to  House  Island. 

The  tide  was  fast  running  out,  and  by  favor  of  an 
ash  breeze  we  swept  sViftly  down  over  the  flats,  run 
ning  with  the  eel-grass, —  which  seemed  in  one  place  to 
be  the  element  that  buoyed  our  boat.  Where  we 
landed,  the  strong  sea  was  playing  with  pebbles ;  the 
inrushing  and  the  retreating  \vaves  rippled  among  the 
rocks,  as  if  they  loved  them.  We  went  through  the 
little  grove,  and  then  stood  upon  the  verge  of  abrupt 
walls  of  rock,  overlooking  shattered  and  ragged  ledges 
to  the  right  hand  and  the  left ;  and  before  us  was  the 


HOUSE  ISLAND.  337 

ocean  wilderness  tossing  its  wild  waters.  We  saw  the 
dance  of  the  breakers  on  black  rocks  many  miles 
away.  And  the  surf  was  sounding  in  a  hollow  cavern 
beneath  our  feet. 

On  the  southeast  corner  of  the  island  is  my  study. 
A  huge  junk  of  cliff  has  separated  from  the  main  body, 
leaving  a  cool  shelter  close  by  the  breaking  waves. 
This  is  the  "  House "  from  which  the  island  takes  its 
name,  twelve  by  twelve,  of  irregular  shape,  and  twenty 
feet  high.  A  vein  of  trap  was  first  cut  out  behind  it  by 
the  waves,  and  then  the  Atlantic  put  in  its  lever,  and 
tried  to  pry  it  off  into  the  sea,  moving  it  some  two 
feet.  It  was  done  when  the  island  had  not  emerged 
from  the  water  to  its  present  height,  as  if  the  sea  were 
fifteen  or  twenty  feet  higher  than  pow.  Very  likely  it 
has  "  housed "  shipwrecked  mariners.  It  has  proved 
rent  free  to  me  many  a  day  when  the  main-land  was 
sweltering  under  a  hot  inland  breeze.  It  is  always  a 
delightful  place  in.  which  to  be  alone,  a  true  closet 
among  the  rocks,  with  the  sea  thundering  at  its  very 
threshold.  I  had  often  been  with  Cephas  under  this 
cliff ;  and  here  we  now  talked  over  the  strange  turn  in 
his  affairs. 

He  had, —  after  leaving  Central  for  Montana  not 
long  before  the  detective  had  arrived  at  my  house  in 
search  for  him, —  moved  very  quickly,  and  soon  stealth 
ily.  Having,  indeed,  a  fit  of  regular  nmdness  for 
awhile;  solitude  developing  a  mental  state  which  so 
ciety  had  repressed.  And  as  the  dark  cloud  of  un 
reason  settled  upon  him  he  imagined  himself  pursued. 


338  HOUSE  ISLAND. 

The  detective  therefore  went  some  distance  west  and 
north,  before  he  found  out  that  his  invalid  had  returned 
to  Colorado,  and  was  wandering  on  the  slopes  of  Clear 
Creek.  The  man-hunter,  turning  to  follow  his  track, 
roamed  over  the  heights  south  of  Idaho  Springs  on 
South  Clear  Creek — the  Pappoose,  Squaw  and  Chief; 
and  then  westerly  about  the  frowning  ledges  of  Bier- 
stadt  and  the  ridges  above  Georgetown. 

Having  found  traces  all  the  way,  old  camps  and  bits 
of  writing,  he  at  last  came  upon  the  Wild  Man's  home, 
in  the  valley  where  the  Great  Range  makes  an  oxbow 
curve  around  the  head  of  one  branch  of  Clear  Creek, 
ten  miles  west  of  Empire.  A  little  before  reaching  the 
base  of  Red  Mountain,  the  valley  has  considerable 
width,  and  the  floor  is  covered  with  forest  and  little 
parks  of  grassland.  The  timber  is  of  good  growth ; 
and  there  are  the  most  perfect  fir-trees,  making  natural 
hedges  close  trimmed  and  of  great  thickness.  Here, 
very  near  the  bank  of  the  swift  sparkling  stream,  was 
Cephas'  little  shelter  tent.  In  every  direction  the 
walks  among  the  mountains  are  delightful :  to  the  east 
and  south  —  Ruby  Mountain  and  the  silver  treasuries 
among  clouds ;  north  and  west, —  the  Ridge  Pole  of 
this  continent.  In  this  health-giving  room,  walled  in 
by  high  peaks,  the  invalid,  with  a  supply  of  stores,  had 
reached  a  resting  place.  The  Wild  Man  was  discov 
ered  just  »  he  was  beginning  to  climb  the  Red  Cone 
on  the  south.  When  his  pursuer  had  crossed  the  noisy 
stream,  and  had  come  almost  up  with  him,  a  voice  was 
heard :  — 


HOUSE  ISLAND.  339 

0 

"  When  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?     Hand  over  hand 

I  grasp  and  climb  an  ever  steeper  hill, 
A  rougher  path.     Oh,  that  it  were  Thy  will 

My  tired  feet  might  tread  the  Promised  Land  ! " 

Cephas  recognized  at  once  his  English  friend,  and 
returned  to  camp.  A  few  sharp  ringing  blows  of  the 
axe  soon  prepared  a  home-like  fire ;  the  pillar  of  smoke 
ascended  till  the  sun  went  down,  and  then  shone  a 
pillar  of  fire.  Pine  stumps,  green  boughs,  and  limit 
less  stores  of  firm  wood  made  the  hours  pass  quickly. 
The  worst  of  the  insane  days  had  gone  by;  and  a  cer 
tain  method  in  his  madness  aimed  for  regaining  health 
by  the  life  of  a  mountaineer.  Meantime  he  was  "  pros- 
^pecting  "  for  gold  and  silver :  and  in  this  was  no  more 
mad  than  half  the  people  of  Colorado. 

Although  most  of  his  talk  seemed  rational,  dark 
moods  like  clouds  would  often  flit  over  his  soul.  He 
rose  from  the  fireside  in  the  early  evening  and  walked 
to  a  tall  cottonwood ;  where  the  rising  wind  was  pulling 
at  the  leaves.  The  watchman,  fearing  lest  his  patient 
should  wander  away,  followed;  and,  concealing  him 
self,  overheard  him  praying  —  (Job  13  :  25)  :  — 

"Wilt  thou  break  a  leaf  driven  to  and  fro,  and  wilt 
thou  pursue  the  dry  stubble  ? " 

Accustomed  as  he  was  to  wild  life  in  the  mountains, 
the  Englishman  said  that  the  voice  of  prayer  in  that 
lonely  place  awakened  in  him  a  singular  sense  of  soli 
tude.  The  sounding  in  the  tops  of  the  pines,  the  music 
of  the  river  dashing  over  its  shallow  bed,  the  ghostly 
forms  of  the  mountains  under  the  moonlight,  and  the 


340  HOUSE  ISLAND. 

solitary  cry  of  some  beast  far  down  the  valley,  made  the 
loneliness  of  the  place  more  apparent.  He  thought  of 
his  former  chase  for  the  Madman,  and  how  much  he 
owed  to  him  as  his  foster  father  in  the  spiritual  life. 
He  kneeled  and  began  to  pray  for  the  invalid.  Cephas 
soon  came  to  his  side;  kneeling  together,  they  asked 
for  health,  a  safe  way  to  the  sea  and  over  it.  Then  they 
returned  to  their  camp  fire.  First  making  a  bed  of  fir 
tips,  and  a  thick  shelter  against  the  wind,  each  rolled 
himself  in  his  blanket  and  lay  down  with  feet  to  the  fire 
for  the  night.  The  detective  could  not  easily  sleep; 
and  when  he  came  to  be  drowsy,  he  was  wakened  by 
his  companion  :  who,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
was  pointing  toward  him,  saying, —  < 

"  You  shot  at  me.     You  are  the  man." 

With  great  tact,  the  Englishman  merely  said,  without 
raising  his  head, — 

"  Yes,  and  you  prayed  with  me.  Lie  down  and  go  to 
sleep." 

"  So  I  did,"  he  answered,  after  seeming  to  recollect 
himself.  And  he  was  again  quiet,  and  disposed  to 
sleep.  The  detective  hardly  dared  lose  himself  long, 
lest  his  charge  should  rise  and  slip  away.  He  silently 
arranged  a  staff  of  spruce  so  as  to  be  awakened  if  his 
comrade  should  try  to  creep  from  his  side,  and  then 
sought  rest.  But  a  sense  of  the  solitude  of  the  situa- 
uation,  the  isolation  from  all  men,  the  necessity  of 
watching  his  mad  companion,  the  blackness  of  the  sky 
and  the  brilliancy  of  the  stars,  held  his  eyes  waking. 
As  the  night  watch  wore  on,  he  saw  one  star  after 


HOUSE  ISLAND.  341 

another  move  silently  past  the  peaks,  the  jeweled  hour 
glass  of  the  mountains.  He  tried  to  quiet  his  mind 
with  remembering  old  hymns.  Over  and  over  again 
he  repeated  Wordsworth's  line 

"  The  sleep  that  is  among  the  lonely  hills," — 

but  there  was  no  sleep  for  him.  He  called  up  the  wild 
imagery  of  the  Hebrew  prophets.  At  last  he  fixed 
upon  the  text, —  "  They  shall  dwell  safely  in  the  wilder 
ness,  and  sleep  in  the  woods;"  and  he  fell  into  a 
troubled  sleep. 

When  he  waked  the  moon  had  gone  down ;  and  the 
Madman  had  departed  in  the  darkness.  He  had  taken 
Ais  blanket,  axe  and  roll ;  but  left  his  little  tent  stand 
ing.  With  an  Indian's  keenness,  the  detective  found 
the  direction  he  had  taken,  just  as  the  dawn  began  to 
shoot  its  first  arrows  into  the  dark  forest.  The  grim 
wilderness,  looking  more  drear  and  untamable  than 
under  the  strong  light  of  yesterday,  was  so  intricate 
that  it  was  hard  to  thread  it  in  the  way  the  Wild  Man 
had  taken.  The  young  pines  were  often  so  thick  that 
it  was  needful  to  force  a  pathway  by  breaking  twigs ; 
but  the  branches  already  broken  plainly  showed  the 
way.  Further  on,  the  forest  was  high  and  open  ;  again, 
the  way  was  tangled  and  dreary.  Dead  trees  were 
coming  out  of  the  grey  dawn  ;  showing  weak  limbs  and 
trunks,  ready  to  sway,  crackle  and  crash,  whenever  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  should  next  shake  the  wilderness. 
The  crooked  path  of  pursuit  led  finally  into  the  regular 
route  toward  the  basin  at  the  head  of  the  valley.  After 


342  HOUSE  ISLAND. 

sunrise  squirrels  came  out  to  sit  on  the  rocks  and 
fallen  trees,  to  breakfast  on  grasshoppers,  which  had 
begun  to  come  over  the  range  in  clouds.  The  Wild 
Man  was  evidently  slackening  pace ;  sitting  down  now 
and  then  upon  rocks  or  tree  trunks,  confident  as  a  chip 
per.  Here  was  a  place  where  he  had  rested,  making 
notes ;  bits  of  paper  told  the  tale.  If  I  had  seen  such 
scraps  in  the  Himalayas  I  should  have  known  that 
Cephas  had  passed  that  way.  One  paper  picked  up 
appeared  to  be  the  fly  leaf  of  a  pocket  Testament,  and 
on  it  were  written  these  words  from  the  Rig-veda, — "  If 
I  go  along  trembling,  like  a  cloud  driven  by  the 
wind;  have  mercy,  Almighty,  have  mercy."  Another 
fragment  was  inscribed  with  his  own  words : —  "  I  musfc 
walk  incessantly  and  aimlessly.  Uncontrollable  rest 
lessness,  irresistible  impulses,  bear  me  onward.  When 
will  my  disquieted  spirit  find  repose  ?  " 

When  the  pursuer  came  out  of  the  timber  into  the 
wide  open  space, —  which  is  itself  a  mountain  top, 
hemmed  in  by  a  sharp  rough  ridge  surmounted  by 
occasional  peaks  and  pinnacles  of  rock, —  he  had  to 
move  with  moje  caution,  lest  he  should  be  seen  too 
soon  by  the  lunatic.  The  Wild  Man  not  far  away  was 
moving  toward  the  western  edge  of  the  basin ;  evi 
dently  planning  to  pass  up  the  steep  of  a  thousand  feet, 
and  over  into  the  Middle  Park.  Carefully  advancing, 
sometimes  under  cover  of  living  cedars  which  were 
lying  down  to  hide  their  heads  from  the  west  winds,  and 
again  under  the  lee  of  waterways  and  by  scattered  lines 
of  boulders, —  he  came  at  last  where  there  was  no 


HOUSE  ISLAND.  343 

cover,  and  went  forward  past  little  pools  or  minute 
lakes  in  the  depressions  of  the  basin  next  to  the  rim. 
But  the  mad  traveler  did  not  look  back.  He  was  per 
haps  five  hundred  feet  up  the  slope  ;  which  was  covered 
with  fine  broken  stones,  lying  loose  and  giving  under 
the  feet,  with  here  and  there  a  small  boulder  or  irregu 
lar  block  that  had  lodged  in  its  attempt  to  roll  down 
the  steep  roofside.  Cephas  had  laid  down  his  baggage, 
and  was  eagerly  killing  quails ;  shooting  them  at  four 
feet  distance  with  handfuls  of  stone^.  And  when  he 
had  so  taken  fowl  enough  for  his  breakfast,  he  again 
marched  up  the  ridge,  pulling  off  the  feathers  by  the 
way.  Absorbed  in  this  occupation  he  did  not  notice 
his  pursuer,  who  finally  overtook  him  lying  upon  his 
back  on  the  very  top  of  the  divide. 

An  exchange  of  —  "Good  morning"  —  brought  the 
wild  fellow,  for  the  time,  to  his  senses.  And  they  sat 
chatting  together,  viewing  the  prospect.  The  eye,  turn 
ing  eastward,  looks  over  the  backs  of  sixty  miles  of 
mountains,  with  bare  ridges  and  fir  clad  ravines  j  and, 
beyond,  eighty  miles  out  upon  the  great  plains  which 
roll  like  the  ocean.  In  the  west,  there  is  a  mass  of 
mountains  a  hundred  miles  wide ;  and  in  the  fore 
ground  the  Middle  Park,  marked  with  mighty  spurs  and 
undulating  valleys.  A  hundred  distinct  mountain 
peaks  are  counted  from  this  spot.  Heavy  shower 
clouds  were  pouring  out  their  waters  on  the  Blue  River 
Range,  which  rises  like  a  wall  in  the  west  extending  ten 
leagues  along  the  horizon.  The  treasures  of  rain  were 
advancing  eastward  at  the  rate  of  forty  miles  an  hour, 


344  HOUSE  ISLAND. 

deluging  the  lower  mountain  ridges  and  the  intervening 
forests. 

But  their  gazing  was  sharply  ended  by  the  Madman 
snatching  his  pack,  and  starting  like  a  Rocky  Mountain 
sheep  down  the  steep  western  slope.  But  he  paused, 
almost  before  his  fellow  could  follow.  He  had  made  a 
misstep,  and  moved  a  rock  —  already  half  loosened  by 
the  melting  snow  —  and  crushed  his  foot  so  badly  that 
he  had  to  go  back  to  camp  on  the  strong  shoulders  of 
his  friend.  Singularly  enough,  all  his  disorder  was 
then  in  his  foot.  His  mind  was  so  diverted  as  to 
leave  him  clear-headed. 

They  had  a  merry  time  plodding  down  the  ravine  to 
their  last  night's  lodging.  Two  or  three  times  on  their 
way,  caught  by  showers,  they  halted  under  thick 
umbrella-arms  of  cedars,  and  built  a  little  fire  for  dry 
ing  their  feet;  then  pushed  on  again,  till  the  next 
shower  overtook  them.  That  night  the  patient  slept 
well;  and  while  the  stars  were  still  piercing  the  tree- 
tops,  the  Englishman  went  for  help  to  remove  him. 

The  way  the  tide  washed  now,  warned  us  to  rise  from 
our  seat  by  the  sea,  and  take  to  the  oars.  We  hauled 
off  the  boat  to  the  sound  of  music, —  the  soothing 
sound  of  the  incoming  tide  flowing  over  rounded  stones 
on  the  rough  shore.  Fairly  afloat,  we  laid  our  quarter 
up  against  the  heavy  billows,  which  were  coming, 
racing  and  chasing,  from  some  old  battle  midseas,  like 
warhorses  never  weary.  We  plowed  the  foaming  fur 
rows  of  the  deep,  and  rode  over  the  ridged  waves; 


HOUSE  ISLAND.  345 

then  glided  upon  low  swells  up  the  harbor,  amid  the 
noise  of  clanging  sea  birds  whose  wings  sparkled  with 
briny  drops  as  they  rose  from  the  flood.  And  all 
along  the  pleasant  path  our  feet  of  ash  were  treading, 
my  comrade  told  me  how  he  and  the  Wild  Man  came 
forward  to  Chicago  ;  where,  without  having  had  any 
serious  lapse  of  reason  since  on  the  mountain  top,  my 
friend's  returning  sense  with  that  of  his  guide  told  him 
to  put  himself  under  medical  treatment  for  a  time, 
while  the  detective  hastened  to  New  York.  He  there 
found  a  message  bidding  him  go  to  Halifax  to  meet  his 
patron ;  who  had  come  over  sea,  but  was  lying  too  ill  to 
proceed  further.  Word  was  despatched  to  Chicago, 
directing  Cephas  to  follow  under  medical  attendance  as 
soon  as  possible. 


346  THE  OLD  NECK. 


XXX. 

THE  OLD  NECK. 

WHEN  it  came  evening,  we  heard  the  voice  of 
many  waters  borne  upon  the  night  wind,  and 
again  went  forth.  Walking  with  careful  steps 
through  rocky  pastures  past  the  edge  of  a  marsh,  where 
the  stealthy  sea  was  silently  encroaching  on  grasses 
and  reeds,  we  crossed  the  brown  fields  and  a  little 
ridge  of  beach  grass,  and  reached  the  tuneful  sands  of 
Old  Neck  beach,  which  sounded  under  our  feet  as  if 
we  were  treading  upon  the  keys  of  some  instrument. 
The  tumbling  tide,  unweary  night  and  day,  was  making 
great  uproar.  And  the  waves  were  running  races  along 
the  whole  shore. 

Making  our  way  toward  the  right  of  the  beach,  in 
first  coming  upon  the  rocks  we  found  a  little  spit  of 
sand,  like  a  triangular  room  surrounded  with  walls  of 
stone.  Here  to  the  left  rises  like  an  inclined  plane  a 
sharp-backed  ledge,  up  whose  ridgepole  we  climbed; 
and  then  lay  down  in  certain  rough  cradle-like  rifts 
upon  the  peaked  top.  Here  we  had  the  sea  dashing  in 
past  us  close  by  our  left  hand  on  the  beach,  and  on 
our  right  hand  through  a  wide  opening  between  the 


THE  OLD  NECK.  347 

rocks  over  a  sanded  floor.  Directly  in  front,  the  waves 
rose  with  high  crests,  combed  over  the  black  boulders, 
or  ran  to  meet  with  heavy  shock  the  broken  ledge, — 
filling  the  air  with  spray.  Lying  there,  we  saw  only 
the  sea  and  the  stars. 

Spending  the  evening  in  this  place,  we  went  through 
with  the  full  story,  certain  points  of  which  had  been 
given  me  in  a  breath  in  the  morning.  I  give  it  only  in 
a  breath  now ;  for  I  have  no  heart  to  rehearse  with  any 
great  fulness  the  sick  bed  scene,  and  the  strange  story 
of  the  strong  man. 

It  seems  that  before  the  Englishman  and  his  ward 
separated  at  Chicago,  Cephas  confessed  to  him,  what  I 
had  more  than  once  suspected,  that  this  was  the  second 
time  in  which  he  had  really  lost  his  mental  balance ; 
the  first  having  been  while  he  was  wandering  in  the 
Sierra,  leading  the  detective  his  wild  chase.  That  he 
was  not  really  himself,  guided  by  sound  discretion,  for 
a  time,  during  those  weeks,  seemed  apparent  to  me 
then ;  and  his  confession  of  it  explained  conduct,  which 
would  have  been,  otherwise,  too  erratic  even  for  Cephas 
—  the  Wild  Man. 

The  detective,  in  visiting  the  Englishwoman  in  Hali 
fax,  learned  something  more  than  he  had  known  before 
of  the  relation  which  existed  between  Cephas  and 
Helen, —  a  part  of  which  is  already  known  to  the 
reader.  In  talking  with  the  detective  she  prefaced  her 
story  with  some  account  of  Cephas'  intimacy  with  her 
family,  and  then  added :  — 

"  Cephas  seemed  to  us  to  be  one  of  a  new  order  of 


348  THE  OLD  NECK. 

men,  new  to  us,  so  unselfish ;  never  appearing  to  think 
of  himself.  And  he  was  so  full  of  plans  for  doing 
good,  that  he  thoroughly  won  my  mother  and  myself  to 
try  to  help  him  in  what  we  supposed  to  be  one  grand 
purpose  of  his  life. 

"And,"  said  the  woman  with  eye  kindling,  as  she 
half  rose  from  her  reclining  chair,  "my  mother  in  dying 
gave  me  charge,  that,  come  what  might,  if  my  father's 
property  should  ever  be  in  my  hands,  it  should  go  to 
carry  out  the  peculiar  plans  of  our  young  American 
friend,  in  establishing  the  educational  projects  he  had 
in  mind.  And  since  my  wishes  for  my  own  domestic 
life  had  been  thwarted  first  by  my  father,  and  then  by 
the  hard  hand  of  death,  I  began  to  live  almost  entirely 
for  our  new  friend's  educational  idea.  Cephas'  love  to 
me  and  mine  to  him  was  that  of  sister  and  brother; 
and  what  he  loved  and  lived  for,  became  my  own  end 
in  living.  But  my  father's  mad  pursuit  of  our  friend ; 
then  the  conditions  of  his  will ;  then  the  chase  set  on 
foot  by  the  executors, —  made  me  despair  of  ever  fulfill 
ing  my  wish  to  endow  a  school  upon  the  new  plan.  As 
soon  as  I  was  free,  I  sent  you  to  find  Cephas. 

"  My  disease,  however,  has  lately  made  such  progress 
that  I  have  hurried  over  sea,  hoping  to  meet  my  friend 
and  accomplish  the  great  work  of  my  life  and  his, — 
then  die  in  gladness.  The  most  triumphant  hour  of 
my  life  will  be  the  one  in  which  I  set  seal  to  papers, 
which  give  life  to  the  great  scheme  over  which  I  have 
dreamed  and  prayed  by  night  and  day  for  many  years." 

"She  had  spoken,"  said  the  detective,  "with  eyes 


THE   OLD  ArECK.  349 

sparkling  and  face  glowing;  with  an  earnest  enthusi 
asm,  which  seemed  like  the  last  energy  of  one  about  to 
die.  The  thought  of  self  sacrifice  in  a  great  project  for 
the  good  of  others  fully  possessed  her  mind.  Her 
whole  manner  bade  me  be  quiet  till  she  had  finished 
her  story.  But  the  very  first  part  of  what  she  said,  had 
almost  overwhelmed  me ;  and  when  she  had  concluded, 
I  eagerly  asked  a  few  questions. 

"  My  head  snapped,  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol 
within  my  brain.  The  memory  of  all  my  early  life 
returned  in  a  moment.  I  knew  the  mother  of  the  Wild 
Man  was  my  mother.  Cephas  was  the  brother  from 
whom  I  separated  by  the  roadside,  when  as  children  we 
both  started  to  run  away.  I  could  see  the  old  log 
where  we  settled  it.  God  alone  knows  what  different 
tracks  we  have  trodden." 

The  detective  arose,  with  intense  excitement,  nearly 
slipping  from  the  rock  into  the  eager  waves. 

He  then  proceeded  to  give  me  an  account  of  his  boy 
adventures  after  he  had  left  his  brother  at  the  old  log. 
His  exposures  in  wild  wandering  with  savage  men  in 
provincial  forests,  induced  a  sickness  that  almost 
deprived  him  of  life.  It  destroyed  all  memory  of  his 
early  days  so  that  he  had  to  begin  over  again,  as  a  lad 
who  knew  nothing  of  himself  save  the  wigwam  where 
he  was  then  lying,  and  the  motherly  squaw  whose  care 
had  preserved  his  life.  Many  years  afterwards,  having 
been  struck  a  severe  blow  upon  the  head  in  a  contest 
with  criminals,  his  memory  so  far  came  back  to  him 
that  he  could  remember  his  mother's  face,  just  as  she 


350  THE   OLD  NECK. 

looked  in  kneeling  when  she  prayed  for  him.  But  he 
remembered  nothing  more  till, —  in  questioning  Helen 
at  Halifax, —  the  whole  story  came  back  to  him,  and  his 
mental  infirmity  gave  place  to  perfect  soundness. 

Then  it  was  that  I  could  understand  all  those 
strange  moods  in  which  I  had  seen  this  man. 

And  I  began  almost  immediately  to  fancy  that  I  had 
long  seen  resemblances  between  Cephas  and  his 
brother,  and  that  I  might  have  guessed  the  truth  if  I 
had  been  of  nimble  wit. 

After  giving  the  English  Helen  an  account  of  his 
adventures  with  Cephas  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the 
detective  hastily  returned  to  the  States  to  meet  his 
brother.  But  upon  his  arrival  in  Boston  he  learned 
that  having  failed  to  receive  his  message  or  having  mis 
understood  it,  Cephas  had  already  come  to  New  York, 
and  sailed  for  England. 

Next  morning  the  boy  Peter  —  then  answering  to  the 
name  Edward  —  who  had  been  absent  from  my  house 
the  day  before,  met  the  Englishman  at  breakfast. 
When  we  were  alone  again  I  told  my  guest  that  the  lad 
was  one  Cephas  had  given  into  my  charge  when  we 
last  met  in  Central,  and  that  he  had  come  to  me  from 
California  when  I  moved  to  Cape  Anne. 

"I  was  astonished,"  said  I,  "upon  seeing  him.  His 
face  was  so  familiar.  I  have  tried  to  recall  where  I 
have  seen  his  image.  I  must  have  dreamed  about  just 
such  a  face  and  figure." 

"  Then  I  related  the  story  of  the  finding  of  this  waif 


THE   OLD  NECK.  351 

from  the  sea, —  the  wreck  in  Humboldt  Bay.  My  com 
panion  staggered,  and  fell  to  the  floor.  The  lad  was 
his  own  son. 

The  detective's  wife,  who  bore  the  image  of  the  dead 
Helen,  was  at  the  time  of  the  wreck  sailing  for  Van 
couver's  Island  with  her  brother  and  her  little  child. 
Her  husband  was  expecting  soon  to  follow,  and  make  a 
home  there.  When  the  news  of  the  disaster  reached 
him,  it  was  said  that  all  had  perished.  The  face  of 
this  boy  was  to  his  father  like  one  risen  from  the 
dead. 

Upon  the  day  followfng,  the  detective  sailed  again 
for  Halifax,  taking  the  lad  with  him. 


352  ALONE  IN  THE  FOREST. 


XXXI. 

ALONE   IN   THE   FOREST. 

THE  story  of  that  day  on  the  island,  and  the  last 
part  of  the  story  that  night  by  the  sea,  filled  me 
with  a  sad  surprise  I  Cannot  express.  I  never 
made  any  attempt  to  talk  it  over  with  any  but  One : 
Him  I  met  in  the  lonely  forest.  As  the  cold  days 
came  on,  and  the  ground  was  filling  itself  with  frost  so 
as  to  hold  on  upon  the  covering  of  snow  soon  to  be 
laid  over  it,  I  went  forth  day  after  day.  The  woods  in 
the  low  lands  were  floored  with  ice.  And  it  was  to  me 
the  poetry  of  motion  to  glide  over  a  sea  of  glass 
through  swamps  and  meadows  commonly  inaccessible ; 
amid  the  alders  and  wet  cedars,  and  fields  of  dead 
grasses  whose  spires  rise  above  the  ice  waving  in  the 
wind.  Lying  down  upon  thin  glass-like  places,  I 
looked  as  through  windows  into  the  still  world  under 
the  ice ;  where  the  clear  sunlight  was  streaming  among 
reeds  and  stems,  and  warming  minute  creatures  at  their 
winter  sports.  My  cares  seemed  to  sink  into  the  shal 
lows  below ;  the  swift  running  water  at  the  airholes  car 
ried  my  burdens  down  stream,  fastening  them  under 
chains  of  ice ;  and  the  awkward  cedars  reached  out 
their  branches  to  tear  away  my  trouble. 


ALONE  IN  THE  FOREST.  353 

One  still  day  late  in  the  season  I  felt  impelled  to 
walk  the  woods  all  day,  fifteen  miles  or  more.  The 
silence  of  the  wilderness  was  unbroken  all  the  morning. 
Half  dreaming  through  the  woodlands,  and  half  filled 
with  ecstatic  joy  in  being  alone  in  a  wild  life  as  if  in 
some  far  country,  I  pushed  on  through  the  solemn 
depths  of  the  forest  to  the  most  remote  parts.  I  clam 
bered  over  scattered  mounds  of  old  dead  hemlocks 
buried  by  blankets  of  moss.  I  picked  my  way  through 
tangled  thickets  of  dead  spruce  limbs  in  frozen 
swamplands.  I  sauntered  through  groves  of  tall  white 
pines;  I  trode  upon  the  exposed  fangs  of  enormous 
stumps,  still  remaining  after  the  masts  that  once  grew 
there  had  been  long  at  sea. 

At  about  noon,  having  been  lying  long  upon  a  bed  of 
ground-hemlock  praying  in  the  solitary  place,  I  heard  a 
sullen  roar  which  filled  the  forest  as  some  old  gray  tower 
fell  heavily  upon  the  earth.  In  the  still  air  that  pre 
cedes  a  storm,  I  soon  saw  another  old  trunk  quiver, 
then  reel  and  fall  headlong, —  the  top  boughs  crashing 
against  the  sides  of  the  neighboring  stems ;  and  the  dull 
sound  from  the  ground  echoed  through  the  aisles  of  the 
woods.  Within  an  hour  I  heard  the  sweetest  of  forest 
sounds, —  the  rustling  of  dry  leaves,  the  creaking  of  a 
lodged  tree,  the  friction  of  dead  branches,  a  distant 
moaning  of  winds.  Best  of  all,  I  heard  the  low  tones 
of  the  organ  of  the  sea.  The  air  was  rising  and  stir 
ring.  Eddying  and  whirling  went  the  half-decayed 
spoils  of  the  maples ;  and  slender  trees  began  swaying 
to  the  breeze.  As  the  hours  went  by,  the  voice  of  the 
13 


354  ALONE  IN  THE  FOREST. 

ocean  became  heavy  and  hoarse ;  and  loud  surges  were 
lashing  the  distant  shore.  It  was  full  time  for  the  bit 
ter  storms  of  winter ;  the  trees  were  close  reefed,  and 
all  things  were  ready.  Twisting  winds  began  to  bend 
and  break  the  trees.  The  sound  of  the  storm,  pouring 
through  rocky  defiles  and  the  open  spaces  of  woodland 
and  over  the  bending  treetops,  outroared  the  distant 
waves.  The  violence  increased  into  the  wild  fury  of  a 
gale.  And  falling  snow  soon  made  a  new  solitude. 

Entering  my  house  sometime  after  dark,  I  found  the 
detective  returned  once  more  from  Halifax.  Upon 
arriving  there,  he  had  met  the  doctor  coming  from  the 
bedside  of  his  dead  patron.  But  she  had  placed  on 
sure  foundation  by  her  will,  the  work  over  which  she 
had  been  praying  through  so  many  years;  and  con 
cerning  which  my  friend  had  prayed  amid  the  wild 
places  where  I  had  walked  that  day;  and  for  which 
also  I  had  been  all  that  day  praying.  And, —  how 
shall  I  say  it?  —  the  news  had  come  that  Cephas  him 
self  had  perished  at  sea,  washed  from  the  deck  in  a 
storm,  when  trying  to  save  a  child  from  being  swept 
off.  So  was  he  buried  in  the  ocean,  according  to  his 
own  wish  often  expressed.  Its  grand  waves,  like 
watery  mountains,  are  skipping  like  lambs  over  the 
place  where  his  body  lies ;  and  the  deep  is  clapping  its 
myriad  hands  over  a  new  grave. 


THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN.  355 


XXXII. 
THE   PROPHET'S    MOUNTAIN. 

A  FTER  the  long  storm  with  its  dreary  winds  had 
L\  passed  by,  and  the  thick  damp  fall  had  clothed 
the  earth  with  still  snow,  we  left  the  house 
for  the  Prophet's  Mountain.  The  trees  were  clad 
with  a  golden  fleece  shining  in  the  early  sun.  The 
drifts  that  had  been  borne  about  in  the  clouds  were 
now  deposited  in  many  a  quaint  place;  covering  the 
earth  with  the  drapery  of  the  skies.  Old  walls  and 
fences,  well-curbs  and  high  sweeps,  and  dilapidated 
barns  were  glorified.  Nothing  could  be  called  com 
mon  or  unclean.  The  snow  fall  had  been  deep  here, 
and  there  shallow,  according  to  the  will  of  a  wild  tem 
pest.  During  the,  later  hours  of  the  night  the  storm 
had  been  followed  by  the  reign  of  severe  frost  without 
a  breath  of  wind.  Bright  sunbeams  were  now  shining 
through  the  invigorating  air,  sparkling  everywhere  upon 
white  fields  and  near  or  distant  hills. 

We  were  glad  to  see  the  beauty  of  the  wilderness  in 
winter.  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  those  who  live 
in  the  neighborhood  of  cities,  who  are  always  going 
"into  town"  when  there  are  spare  hours  in  the  cold 


356  THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN. 

season,  err  greatly  in  not  getting  so  far  back  from 
crowds  as  to  be  obliged  to  penetrate  the  winter  woods 
for  recreation.  Those  who  house  themselves  or  track 
sidewalks  during  the  most  enchanting  season  of  the 
year,  have  no  idea  of  the  glories  that  abide  in  forest 
walks  within  an  hour's  reach.  The  great  white  sheet 
let  down  from  heaven  in  winter  makes  beautiful  even 
the  wide  spread  desolation  of  the  wood  chopper. 

The  margin  of  the  stream  which  we  crossed  and 
traced  that  morning,  was  everywhere  adorned  with 
ornaments  in  white,  curiously  cut  and  carved  in  the 
pure  snow  and  half  formed  ice.  Entering  the  timber, 
where  in  the  summer  we  had  pine,  spruce,  hemlock, 
oak,  maple,  birch,  young  and  old,  shrub  and  mast,  we 
saw  now  in  the  place  of  these  a  forest  of  snow.  In 
this  winter  palace  we  found  tall  birch  and  slender  ma 
ple,  and  the  long  limbs  of  hemlock  and  spruce,  bending 
in  snowy  festoons,  forming  great  and  small  archways ; 
and  the  underbrush  was  transformed  into  numberless 
fairy  grottoes  for  the  rabbits  and  winter  birds.  We 
saw  that  many  great  branches  and  not  a  few  trees  had 
been  cut  clean  off  by  the  weighty  axe  of  snow,  wielded 
by  the  hand  of  the  wind.  So  magnificent  trunks  lose 
half  their  arms  or  break  down  and  die  in  great  gales ; 
or  they  snap  under  a  heavy  load  of  ice,  swaying  in  a 
gentle  breeze  on  a  cool  sunny  morning.  It  is  because 
their  time  is  come :  as  it  is  appointed  to  men  once  to 
die,  so  it  is  appointed  unto  trees  once  to  die;  they 
grow  on  till  the  day  of  fate,  then  crack  under  the  wind 
or  crash  under  the  heavy  snow. 


THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN.  357 

Through  the  strange  architecture  and  wild  ruins  of 
the  winter  woods,  we  pushed  on  from  Baker's  mill  to 
the  ledge  where  the  left  hand  way  leads  to  the  big 
boulders  on  Beaver  Hill,  and  there  turned  to  the  right, 
just  as  a  fox  slowly  moved  on  near  our  path.  Follow 
ing  a  buried  road  under  its  archways  we  came,  near  the 
Essex  line,  to  the  great  pine  which,  before  the  Sep 
tember  gale  of  '69,  lifted  its  standard  to  the  height  of 
a  hundred  feet.  It  was  three  feet  in  diameter ;  but  the 
fingers  of  the  wind  that  night  broke  off  forty  feet  of  the 
top  like  a  pipe  stem,  and  hurled  it  point  downward  to 
the  ground.  Where  the  tip  first  struck  thirty-three  feet 
from  the  base  of  the  tree,  it  snapped  off  close,  then 
entered  the  ground  again  at  a  foot's  distance,  and  there 
left  a  stub  sticking  four  feet  out  of  the  ground ;  then 
the  remainder  of  the  top,  thirty-three  feet  long,  ended 
over,  leaving  the  butt  up  the  ravine.  By  the  fall,  sev 
eral  small  beeches  were  split  or  bent  over  to  form 
arches.  This  dismantled  mast  was  the  guide  post  near 
which  we  turned  to  the  left,  and  followed  up  the  bottom 
of  a  water  trough  a  little  way,  and  then  swung  to  the 
right,  and  we  were  directly  upon  the  heights  of  the 
Prophet's  Mountain.  Here  the  Millerite  "Prophet 
America  "  undertook  a  forty  days  fast ;  and  he  became 
so  thin  before  his  friends  found  him,  as  to  be  almost 
ready  to  fly  away  lightly  on  the  wings  of  the  death 
angel. 

This  crest  is  one  of  the  best  spots  in  Eastern  Massa 
chusetts.  Even  the  central  domes  of  the  Blue  Hills 
of  Milton  give  no  finer  forest  views  than  this  point. 


358  THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN. 

Climbing  a  low  pine  which  offered  an  easy  chair,  we 
looked  northwest,  far  across  the  white  woods  to  the 
spotless  hills  of  Hamilton.  East  of  north  we  could  see 
the  deep  blue  of  the  ocean  by  Ipswich  beach ;  and 
upon  the  south  the  wide  waters  of  Massachusets  Bay. 
Even  at  this  distance,  we  heard  the  lonely  surging  of 
the  sea;  which  sometimes  continues  for  days  after  a 
long  and  hard  gale. 

The  top  rocks  were  bare,  and  the  sun  was  warm  in 
the  middle  of  the  day.  We  stayed  till  near  sundown, 
talking  mainly  about  the  English  Helen's  will.  This 
instrument  plans  to  build,  upon  the  Island  Home  in 
Nuntundale,  a  school  for  the  better  training  of  preach 
ers  ;  where  from  the  very  beginning  to  the  end  of  their 
course  they  may,  with  a  wide  range  of  study  and 
thorough  discipline,  be  taught  particularly  to  excel  in 
writing  and  in  speaking. 

"Upon  this  very  ledge,"  said  I,  "your  brother  was 
often  lying  prostrate,  praying  for  length  of  days ;  that, 
among  other  things,  he  might  push  this  business." 

When  we  turned  homeward,  after  passing  the  aged 
pine,  we  climbed  a  great  boulder  on  our  right  rising 
about  twenty  feet  high ;  and  upon  it  as  upon  an  altar 
we  prayed  together,  and  praised  God  for  the  memory 
of  those  who  had  passed  away,  and  for  their  work.  I 
took  from  my  pocket  a  little  book,  containing  the 
words  and  only  the  words  of  our  Saviour, —  the  cover  of 
the  volume  badly  worn ;  and  I  gave  it  to  the  detective. 

'•'This  little  book,"  said  I,  "Cephas  carried  in  his 
pocket  so  many  miles  as  would  circle  the  globe.  Your 


THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN.  359 

brother's  book  belongs  of  right  to  you, —  only  believe 
the  words  of  Christ  as  thoroughly  as  he  did. 

"  Let  me  show  you  a  text,  and  its  marks.  Here  it  is 
said,  'Have  faith  in  God.  *  *  Whosoever  *  *  shall 
not  doubt  in  his  heart,  but  shall  believe  that  those 
things  which  he  saith  shall  come  to  pass,  it  shall  be 
done,  he  shall  have  whatsoever  he  saith :  and  all  things 
whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  for  in  prayer,  believing,  ye 
shall  receive/  This  very  rock  is  what  your  brother 
called  his  Ro.ck  of  Praise,  where  he  gave  thanks  to 
God  for  answering  the  prayers  he  had  offered  for  estab 
lishing  the  new  education.  He  had  faith  that  the 
future  would  see.these  prayers  answered.  In  this  book 
is  a  dry  beech  leaf,  torn  from  this  overhanging  tree,  as 
a  witness ;  and  here,  by  this  same  text,  is  a  pine  needle 
from  a  memorable  tree  in  Dana's  woods ;  and  here  is  a 
sprig  of  fir  from  a  high  ridge  in  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
—  these  are  the  witnesses  laid  in  here  to  attest  that  he 
had  faith  in  God.  He  believed ;  but  died  without  the 
sight.  We  now  know  that  he  put  an  idea  into  the 
world  which  is  to  be  endowed  by  millions  of  money. 
He  died  without  the  knowledge  of  this  will,  which 
makes  certain  the  trial  of  the  experiment.  He  died, 
subdued  and  tempered  in  mind,  perhaps  not  so  clear  in 
his  faith  as  he  had  been ;  he  died  without  knowing  the 
fact  that  God  had  answered  him.  But  he  lived,  believ-^ 
ing  that  God  would  do  it." 

When  it  was  nearly  dark,  we  found  ourselves  at  the 
Tilted  Rock  upon  the  top  of  Beaver  Hill,  where  I  had 


360  THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN. 

first  met  my  companion.  Kindling  a  rousing  fire  in 
the  huge  oven-like  opening,  we  stretched  ourselves  on 
spruce  boughs,  and  then  made  an  abundant  supper. 
As  the  evening  wore  on,  we  used  snow  to  bank  up  the 
sides  of  our  shelter;  and,  moving  our  fire,  we  made  a 
new  one  outside.  Placing  fir  tips  over  the  former  bed 
of  the  fire,  which  was  as  hot  as  the  bottom  of  a  warm 
ing  pan,  we  then  put  on  our  heavy  overcoats  and  lay 
down  to  rest.  My  chum  was  soon  sound  asleep.  I 
dozed  awhile;  then  —  made  wakeful  by  many  thoughts 
and  cares  concerning  the  business  we  had  talked  of  all 
day — I  arose,  replenished  the  fire,  and  walked  abroad. 
There  is  no  more  weird  walk  in  the  world  than 
through  an  evergreen  forest,  laden  with  new  snow, 
upon  a  bright  moonlight  night.  The  snow  itself  dis 
pelled  the  darkness;  and  the  moon's  light  imparted  a 
strange  splendor  to  the  rooms  I  passed  through.  I 
seemed  to  be  living  in  another  world  from  that  in 
which  we  had  moved  about  by  day.  The  trees  were 
still  wreathed  in  snow,  and  the  moon,  a  little  past  its 
full,  shone  through  the  archways:  and  I  saw  afar  off 
gleams  of  light,  as  if  the  forest  was  interminable  and 
everywhere  clothed  with  ermine.  Fresh  fallen  snow  in 
the  woods  is  pure  beyond  the  thought  of  man.  In  the 
early  morning,  as  soon  as  the  sun  shines  upon  it,  the 
floor  of  the  forest  is  brilliant  and  beautiful  as  the  floor 
of  heaven;  and  the  changing  of  the  sun  gives  a  pe 
culiar  glory  to  each  hour.  But  the  forest  must  be 
penetrated  in  the  night  under  a  full  moon  to  get  the 
best  effect:  then  the  density  of  the  white  wood  is 


THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN.  361 

known  for  the  first  time;  then  the  openings  made  by 
the  choppers  seem  vast  and  infinitely  wild.  Shrubs 
and  stumps  and  lone  trees  are  clothed  with  celestial 
robes.  And,  in  the  night,  the  silence  of  the  woodland 
is  most  suggestive  of  the  presence  of  mysterious  and 
infinite  powers :  in  the  day  we  are  listening,  but  in  the 
night  we  hope  for  no  sound ;  though  we  are  sometimes 
startled  by  the  rising  of  the  wind,  or  the  fall  of  a  tree 
or  heavily  laden  bough. 

Amid  such  scenery,  my  mind  was  bearing  a  heavy 
burden.  I  was  almost  borne  down  by  the  sense  of 
sudden  loss  in  the  death  of  my  friend ;  and  I  was  glad 
to  be  alone  in  those  very  solitudes  where  he  and  I  had 
walked  and  talked  and  prayed  so  often,  that  every 
rood  was  sacred  ground.  I  was  certain  that  my  mind 
would  best  adjust  itself  to  what  seemed  an  overwhelm 
ing  loss,  by  taking  up  again  my  friend's  life  work,  and 
in  his  old  haunts  doing  as  he  did,  in  giving  hours  by 
night  and  by  day  to  the  business  of  pleading  with  God : 
interceding  for  pagan  populations,  and  for  hard  people 
at  home ;  and,  conscious  of  one's  own  weakness,  pray 
ing  for  a  ministry  of  still  greater  power  to  win  men  to 
Christ.  And  I  remembered  the  solitary  days  and  the 
night  watches  of  our  Saviour ;  and  rather  wondered  that 
I  had  not  oftener  found  hours  after  sunset,  or  lonely 
days,  when  I  could  entreat  for  the  souls  of  my  people 
and  all  earth's  millions. 

When  it  came  to  be  about  the  noon  of  the  night,  I 
found  a  place  under  the  lee  of  a  large  hemlock,  where 
the  snow  carpet  was  at  first  thin,  and  had  been  dis- 


362  THE  PROPHET'S  MOUNTAIN. 

solved  by  the  rays  of  the  sun  at  noon.  The  spot  was 
quite  dry.  Spreading  boughs  upon  it,  I  was  here  for  a 
long  time.  When  I  returned  to  my  rocky  house  and 
slept,  I  was  still  dreaming  about  the  school  that  is  to 
be,  and  sometime  I  would  like  to  relate  my  dream. 

As  I  awoke,  I  saw  the  rising  sun  putting  rose  tints 
on  the  snow.  My  comrade  had  clambered  to  the  roof 
of  our  stone  cottage.  Climbing  to  his  side,  I  found 
him  reading  the  words  of  Jesus.  And  these  were  the 
words  he  read :  — "  If  ye  abide  in  me,  and  my  words 
abide  in  you,  ye  shall  ask  what  ye  will,  and  it  shall  be 
done  unto  you." 

"  I  believe,"  said  the  reader,  "  that  this  is  the  prayer 
of  faith, —  abiding  in  Christ  and  obeying  His  word. 
God  loves  to  hear  such  a  man  pray." 

And  there  upon  the  spot  where  we  had  first  met,  we 
renewed  our  consecration  to  God.  So  saw  I  two  men 
praying  where  two  had  prayed  before ;  only  that  now 
one  was  taken,  and  another  kneeled  in  his  place. 

When  we  arose,  gazing  into  each  other's  faces,  it 
flashed  upon  me  that  this  man,  whom  I  thought  I  knew 
when  I  first  met  him  on  this  rock,  was  he  of  whom  I 
dreamed  when  I  was  a  child.  His  face  and  figure  was 
that  of  the  South  Sea  missionary  who  perished  in  the 
cave,  and  who  gave  his  son  to  my  keeping.  The  con 
trast  between  the  meek  and  innocent  missionary  of  my 
child  dreams  and  this  man  was  so  great,  that  I  laughed 
aloud  and  told  him  the  reason.  His  merriment  joined 
mine. 


THE   PROPHETS  MOUNTAIN.  363 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  we  will  make  part  of  the  dream 
good.  I  will  ask  you  to  continue  to  care  for  my  boy. 
But  you  must  certainly  call  him  Peter.  That  is  my 
true  name,  which  my  mother  gave  me.  The  name  I  am 
known  by  is  one  I  picked  up  in  England.  My  mother 
chose  to  name  her  sons  Cephas  and  Peter  —  Rock  and 
Rock.  Here  upon  this  rock,  I  ask  you  not  to  call  my 
son  by  the  name  Cephas  gave  him  —  your  name  — 
Edward;  but  call  him  Peter  which  is  Cephas." 


364  CORONA  TION. 


XXXIII. 
CORONATION. 

will  of  English  Helen  did  not  stand  the 
test  of  English  law;  and  Cephas'  dream  of  a 
new  college  is  just  as  much  a  dream  as  ever.  I 
have  already  burned  a  peck  of  the  old  odds  and  ends, 
which  I  found  in  his  educational  pigeon  holes;  and 
whether  I  can  make  anything  out  of  the  half  peck 
remaining  is  not  yet  tested.  He  left  no  clear  and  con 
nected  statement  of  his  views  and  arguments;  and  I 
doubt  whether  I  can  so  put  together  his  notions  on  the 
subject  as  to  persuade  all  mankind  to  adopt  them. 
What  then  was  the  use  of  all  his  life  struggling  ?  Did 
he  chase  a  phantom  in  vain?  Not  in  vain.  He  was 
the  more  careful  to  educate  himself;  and  he  had  the 
wider  sympathies  and  broader  views  ;  and  he  drew  near 
to  God  in  prayer:  and  in  it  all,  he  sought  to  have  no 
will  of  his  own;  he  aimed  to  honor  his  Master,  and 
undertook  it  for  Him  ;  and  he  left  it  all  with  Him  to 
do,  or  defer,  or  never  to  do,  according  to  Infinite  Wis 
dom. 

In  his  parochial  work,  Cephas  was  from  first  to  last 
an  obscure  man,  never  rising  to  note;  doing  his  work 


CORONA  TION.  365 

well,  but  certainly  no  better  than  thousands  of  pastors, 
whose  fame  reaches  little  beyond  their  own  parishes. 
What  good  then  did  it  do, —  all  the  hours  of  hard  pray 
ing  in  forest  and  mountain  dell  or  by  the  curling  sea? 
Were  his  mighty  aspirations  and  unutterable  longings 
for  the  widest  usefulness  wasted,  like  the  sweet  sound 
of  gurgling  waters  in  a  fir  forest  among  rocky  heights 
unapproached  by  man?  Did  not  He  whose  ear  is 
open  to  the  cry  of  the  jungle  fowl  in  their  native 
thickets,  or  the  sea  birds  in  the  desolate  north,  or  the 
scream  of  the  mountain  eagle,  hear  the  voice  of  a  man 
who  prayed  in  strong  agony  in  lonely  places  for  the 
coming  of  the  divine  kingdom? 

Cephas  certainly  made  some  very  grave  mistakes  in 
his  parochial  work.  He  erred  in  judgment.  To  lead 
him  to  correct  those  errors  was  God's  way  of  answering 
his  prayers ;  since  one's  fitness  to  serve  must  be  found 
in  the  make  up  of  his  own  character.  His  intent  God 
accepted.  A  good  aim  well  kept  to,  is  a  good  deed. 
To  live  with  a  high  ideal  is  a  successful  life.  It  is  not 
what  one  does,  but  what  he  tries  to  do,  that  makes  the 
soul  strong  and  fit  for  a  noble  career.  All  that  was 
left  of  days  and  nights  of  agonizing  cries  to  God,  and 
careful  planning  of  great  achievements  for  the  divine 
kingdom,  was  simply  —  the  strength  of  having  tried  to 
do  great  things ;  perhaps  no  great  strength  at  that,  but 
surely  far  more  than  if  he  had  slept  and  idled  all  his 
years. 

It  is  not  a  bad  discipline  for  one  to  see  all  early 
dreams  dispelled  and  all  plans  broken,  and  still  to 
recognize  the  hand  of  a  loving  Father  and  Friend. 


366  CORONA  TION. 

"Though  we  die  from  off  the  earth,"  said  Cephas  in 
one  of  his  papers,  "as  obscurely  as  shell  fish  on  the 
shore,  yet  His  kingdom  shall  increase,  and  His  name 
grow  great,  and  His  praises  fill  the  earth.  All  life  is  a 
discipline ;  and  if  we  are  brought  to  take  God's  will  as 
our  own,  we  gain  the  highest  success  that  is  possible  to 
man.  God  has  disappointed  a  great  many  persons  in 
their  life  plans,  but  the  world  still  rolls  on.  God  will 
not  hurry  forward  the  millennium  on  our  account.  He 
has  allowed  many  better  men  than  we  to  die  without 
seeing  it,  though  they  much  desired  it.  We  had  pet 
plans  and  built  them  up  through  years :  if  at  last  they 
fall  to  the  ground,  have  we  not  the  heart  to  say,  '  Thy 
will  be  done  ? ' 

The  discipline  of  life  is  not  so  much  to  achieve  for 
others,  as  through  toil  for  others,  to  perfect  the  indi 
vidual  workman.  I  am  invited  and  commanded  to 
labor  for  the  Lord  that  I  may  do  a  little,  but  mainly 
that  it  may  be  tested  what  manner  of  spirit  I  am  of. 
I  had  great  plans,  but  most  likely  they  were  not  wise, 
since  God  has  crushed  them.  If  I  cherish  a  good  pur 
pose  and  a  submissive  will,  what  need  I  more  ?  If  I  am 
not  submissive  my  plans  were  secretly  selfish.  Yester 
day,  there  failed  one  of  my  projects  which  I  called 
great,  but  it  was  a  very  petty  affair  after  all;  it  is 
pitiable,  contemptible,  if  I  am  depressed  by  such  fail 
ure:  for  if  I  cannot  endure  that  God's  will  shall  be 
done  now,  I  shall  be  always  making  objections  to 
having  the  divine  will  done  in  heaven  —  if  I  plant  foot 
there.  Phantom  foundations,  fall  then :  and  I  will  be 


CORONATION.  3^7 

no  more  disturbed  than  an  angel  is  agitated  by  earthly 
changes." 

But  he  who  wrote  these  words  was  broken  down  and 
made  mad,  in  part  by  the  failure  of  his  earthly  plans, — 
through  ill  health  and  strange  sorrow,  but  his  broken 
purposes  the  severest  grief  of  all.  He  wrote  better 
than  he  lived.  When,  however,  I  lie  down  in  my  camp, 

"  Where  a  wild  stream  with  headlong  shock 
Comes  brawling  down  a  bed  of  rock 
To  mingle  with  the  main," 

I  sometimes  wonder  a  little,  what  the  Lord  meant  by 
destroying  all  of  Cephas'  high  endeavors  in  his  life, 
and  then  casting  him  into  the  sea.  Was  he  not  capable 
of  doing  some  worthy  work  in  this  world  ?  So  wonder 
ing,  I  rise  and  follow  up  this  wild  stream:  now  half 
concealed  by  the  tangled  undergrowth,  now  forming 
pools  under  great  rocks  or  falling  over  prostrate  tree 
trunks,  curling  here  about  old  roots,  and  there  dammed 
up  by  the  beavers  a  hundred  years  ago,  again  rushing 
wildly  under  high  branch  of  aged  beech  or  giant  white 
pine,  moving  again  through  meadows, —  in  its  course 
falling  from  a  considerable  height  in  the  rocky  hills  to 
the  sea,  yet  moving  no  mill  wheel.  I  cannot  say  that 
this  brook  leads  a  vain  life.  And  I  must  believe  that 
all  the  quiet  energy  or  hot  haste  of  Cephas  from  early 
childhood  to  middle  manhood  was  not  in  vain.  Little 
did  he  accomplish ;  perhaps  as  much  as  many,  but  noth 
ing  when  compared  with  his  high  purposes:  still,  the 
Lord  of  the  water  course  must  have  delighted  in  his 


368  CORONATION. 

wild  and  energetic  career,  even  though  he  apparently 
did  little  but  run  in  the  woods,  and  gained  no  more 
fame  than  a  nameless  brook. 

As  I  sit  here  in  my  camp, —  watching  ceaseless 
changes  upon  the  face  of  the  mobile  sea,  with  snowy 
breakers  playing  at  my  feet  in  hot  July, —  I  am  de 
cidedly  disconcerted  by  the  legacy  my  friend  left  me  — 
the  charge  to  overhaul  his  pigeon-holes.  I  do  not  want 
to  burn  their  contents  in  a  lump.  Cephas  said  that  at 
least  one  third  of  the  notes  he  would  throw  away, —  and 
I  will ;  and  another  third  would  be  of  some  use  to  him, 

—  but  he  cannot  use  them  now  and  I  will  not ;  while 
the  best  third  might  be  of  some  service  to  another, — 
and  these  I  will  use  and  work  up  for  him  as  best  I  can. 

For  the  past  fortnight,  I  have  every  evening  illumi 
nated  the  forest,  and  made  the  dark  rough  waters 
under  the  bank  sparkle,  by  setting  fire  to  no  incon 
siderable  quantities  of  trash  in  the  way  of  pencil  notes, 

—  which  served  their  use  when  they  marked  Cephas' 
mental  growth ;  but  it  is  to  me  very  doubtful  whether 
the  rest  of  his  notes  will  set  the  world  in  a  blaze,  even 
if  I  publish  them.     No  man  is  a  hero  to  his  valet ;  and 
I  fear  I  do  not  well  enough  appreciate  my  most  intimate 
friend's  literary  work.     Perhaps  I  know  his  defects  too 
well.     I  am  constrained  to  say  that  Cephas  was  not  a 
great  original  thinker.     He  had,  however,  at  times,  a 
quaint  and  decidedly  ingenious  way  of  putting  things. 
He  was,  also,  a  diligent  and  most  thoughtful  reader ; 
and  he  read  his  own  mental  experiences  more  than  any 
printed  book,  save  the  Bible.     What  writing   Cephas 


CORONATION.  369 

did,  was  often  in  a  style  singularly  fresh,  vigorous,  and 
likely  to  gain  readers ;  but,  as  often,  page  after  page  of 
common  place.  That  is  to  say,  his  writing  was  imma 
ture.  He  had  not  learned  to  discriminate,  and  reject 
worthless  matter.  Reading  his  sermons  or  essays  is 
like  traveling  through  a  country  with  quaint  houses  and 
people,  good  crops,  picturesque  scenery  —  some  mar- 
velously  beautiful,  with  occasional  glimpses  of  the 
grand  and  majestic:  but  also  many  roods  of  monoto 
nous  and  uninteresting  country, —  pine  plain;  patches 
of  sand,  and  strips  of  bog. 

Cephas'  writing  was  so  insignificant,  compared  with 
results  he  hoped  to  reach,  that  I  ask  what  came  of  all 
his  labors,  and  all  his  prayers?  In  overhauling  his 
notes,  I  find  none  so  instructive  as  those  which  relate 
to  his  strange  struggling  —  not  with  his  fate  as  a  man 
of  smaller  intellectual  caliber  than  he  was  willing  to  put 
up  with  —  but  his  singular  pleading  with  the  Source  of 
all  Illumination ;  asking  that  the  utmost  possible  might 
be  made  out  of  him  as  he  was.  I  do  not  think  he  ever 
expected  the  Lord  to  make  a  great  man  of  him ;  he 
was  conscious  of  his  limitations :  but  he  did  expect  the 
Lord  to  make  all  he  could  out  of  the  original  material. 
And  Cephas  wrestled  with  the  Lord  day  and  night  to 
do  this  for  him. 

But  even  this  failed,  as  I  think,  to  give  my  friend 
any  pre-eminent  professional  success.  Who  outside  his 
own  circle  ever  heard  of  him?  All  his  plans  for  in 
tellectual  improvement, —  extensive  enough  and  wise 
enough;  all  his  diligence, —  which  could  not  be  sur- 


370  CORONA  TION. 

passed;  and  all  his  prayings,  unceasing,  fervent  and 
full  of  faith, —  sufficed  to  raise  him  only  to  the  ordinary 
level.  He  was  far  more  of  a  man  than  would  have 
been  possible  under  a  less  energetic  course  of  self  dis 
cipline  and  high  aiming  and  pleadings  for  help  from 
heaven.  There  was  about  him  a  certain  personal  mag 
netism,  which  made  me  cling  to  him.  I  am  confident 
that  he  was  much  greater  than  his  work  ;  his  manhood 
was  in  advance  of  his  sermons.  His  soul  culture  is  so 
manifest  in  his  writings  that  they  appear,  to  a  friend,  to 
have  much  in  them,  though  crude.  If  Cephas  had 
lived  twenty  years  longer  to  pursue  the  plan  he  began 
upon,  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  have  left  two  or  three 
very  manly  and  readable  volumes.  But  he  perished  in 
the  sea  with  his  work  half  done. 

Was  his  student  life,  therefore,  a  failure  because  he 
was  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  his  days  ?  Did  all  his  high 
purposes  enter  into  the  make-up  of  his  soul ;  adding  to 
his  dignity,  and  somewhat  to  his  power, —  as  he  entered 
upon  a  new  career  in  the  unseen  world  ?  Was  it 
enough  that  he  did  what  he  could  ?  I  came  today  upon 
this  pencil  note :  in  which  Cephas  placed,  at  the  top, 
Baxter's  lines, — 

"  If  death  shall  bruise  this  springing  seed, 

Before  it  come  to  fruit, 
The  will  with  Thee  goes  for  the  deed, 
Thy  life  "Was  in  the  root." 

There  is  added  this  comment, — "  It  is  not  true  that 
careful  studies  will  always  make  a  man  famous;  or 


CORONATION.  371 

that  one's  true  mental  power  will  be  always  fully  devel 
oped,  or  even  indicated  —  much  less  appreciated  — 
in  this  world :  and  the  man,  who  builds  up  for  himself 
an  ideal  future  for  this  life, — based  upon  an  ill-grounded 
expectation  of  intellectual  power  over  men, —  may  pre 
pare  himself  to  be  disappointed.  It  is,  nevertheless, 
true  that  careful  studies  will  certainly  give  some  degree 
of  mental  power;  and  that  whatever  vigor  one  gains  in 
this  life  will  give  success  in  a  future  sphere.  He  there 
fore  builds  too  low  who  builds  beneath  the  skies." 

When  Cephas'  health  was  breaking  up  he  wrote, — 
upon  his  boxes  of  papers, — "  This,  or  heaven." 

Upon  that  morning  in  Central,  when  we  separated 
for  the  last  time,  as  we  were  going  out  of  my  door,  he 
said, — 

"  The  mind  is  ever  making  new  plans ;  and  if  all 
fail,  our  faith  bids  us  make  more  definite  plans  for 
another  life, —  that  in  all  the  failures  the  soul  may  not 
lose  heaven.  The  soul  is  led  by  strange  sorrows  and 
unutterable  disappointment  to  turn  away  from  the 
earth,  and  look  for  a  home  on  high." 

My  eyes  were  at  the  moment  held ;  and  I  did  not 
see  that  it  was  the  beginning  of  the  end, —  the  setting 
of  his  steps  for  the  last  jonrney.  Knowing  what  course 
of  study  he  intended  to  pursue,  I  look  upon  his  life  as 
that  of  an  explorer  entering  a  continent  new  to  him, 
making  plans  for  travel,  adventures,  great  gain  in 
knowledge,  rich  experience  and  material  wealth, —  then 
suddenly  summoned  to  enter  the  heavenly  country; 
disappointed  in  the  one  plan,  turning  quickly  to  the 


372  CORONA  TION. 

other, —  as  the  needle  turns  when  crossing  the  mag 
netic  meridian,  hesitating,  oscilating  for  a  moment, 
then  swinging  into  the  new  direction,  and  holding 
the  course  steadfastly  as  the  polar  star.  I  have  in 
hand  the  fragment  of  a  letter  which  Cephas  wrote  me 
on  shipboard,  upon  the  morning  of  the  great  catas 
trophe,  in  the  very  hour  of  it. 

"  DEAR  EDWARD, — 

"  After  my  late  experience,  I  feel  more  than  ever  the 
utter  vanity  of  everything  but  a  noble  life:  I  would 
give  up  the  dreams  of  years  if  I  could  only  gain  that. 
Plans  for  earthly  fame  may  well  fade  from  a  mind  bent 
only  on  living  unselfishly.  Personal  holiness  of  the 
highest  worth  ;  if  this  is  gained,  let  all  else  go  down. 

"I  have  just  been  reading  the  Peninsular  Campaigns. 
Wellington  declared  that  his  final  success  depended  on 
his  having  no  fixed  plan,  except  to  succeed ;  he  was 
able  to  modfy  his  campaign  according  to  circumstances : 
while  the  French  had  a  set  plan,  to  which  they  must 
adhere  in  all  events ;  and  when  things  went  very  wrong, 
they  had  to  begin  all  over  again,  changing  the  whole. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  have  made  my  pet  methods  of 
glorifying  God  my  object  in  living ;  while  in  fact  if  I 
in  any  way  fulfil  the  great  design  of  life,  which  is  to 
glorify  God,  it  is  of  no  consequence  whether  or  not  I 
carry  out  one  of  my  plans. 

"It  was  said  that  Arnold  of  Rugby  awoke  every 
morning  with  the  impression  that  every  thing  was  an 
open  question.  And  while  I  admire  the  persistency 


CORONATION.  373 

with  which  I  have  followed  my  life  aims,  I  am  ashamed 
that  I  have  not  been  more  ready  to  honor  God  in  His 
way,  rather  than  mine;  and  to  accept  heartily  each 
new  revelation  of  his  plans.  I  ought,  every  morning, 
to  have  looked  on  all  plans  as  open,  and  liable  to  be 
changed  any  moment  by  my  wise  and  loving  Father. 

"To  learn  perfect  submission, —  to  fulfil  the  desire 
of  that  devout  man  who  prayed  that  he  might  become 
to  God  what  a  man's  hand  is  to  a  man, —  is  more 
needful  than  that  I  sweat  and  toil  and  importune  the 
Lord  on  the  subject  of  those  miserable  rags,  remnants, 
tags  and  tatters,  that  are  jammed  into  those  pigeon 
holes  which  I  gave  into  your  charge,  telling  you,  for 
sooth,  to  print  some  part.  I  hereby  revoke  — " 

—  In  that  moment  was  heard  the  ringing  cry, — 
"  Save  my  child  !  "  "  Save  my  child !  " 

Sitting  in  the  door  of  a  stateroom  opening  on  deck, 
Cephas  dropped  paper  and  pencil, —  and  never  took 
them  up  again. 

My  friend's  chase  for  the  "Phantom  of  Tragabig- 
zanda,"  and  "  The  North  Star,"  and  the  pursuit  of  the 
plan  indicated  in  "  The  Old  Red  Trunk,"  failed  utterly, 
so  far  as  relates  to  the  grand  results  aimed  for.  And 
of  the  peculiar  ideas  around  which  his  life  crystalized, 
"  The  Shagbark  "  habit  which  he  followed  more  heartily 
and  persistently  than  any  thing  else,  seems  the  only 
one  which  was  pre-eminently  successful.  And  this  was 
a  miserable  failure,  so  far  as  now  appears,  in  respect 
to  those  particular  projects  for  which  he  plead  most  in 

>>  o?  TH1 


374  CORONA  TION. 

the  wilderness.  Wherein,  then,  were  his  prayers  avail 
ing?  Parochial  work  and  Sunday  service  were  appar 
ently  favored  with  fair  but  not  what  is  commonly 
called  extraordinary  success.  As  to  his  prayers  for  the 
wide  world's  population;  and  all  his  crying  unto  God 
for  the  coming  of  the  divine  kingdom,  the  words  of  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  might  have  been  often  in  his  mouth, — 

"  If  God  hath  vouchsafed  an  ear  to  my  supplications, 
there  are  surely  many  happy  that  never  saw  me,  and 
enjoy  blessing  of  mine  unknown  devotions." 

It  is  very  certain  that  Cephas  never  impugned  the 
divine  promises  to  answer  prayer;  but  felt  to  the  end 
fully  satisfied  that  God  heard  him,  and  gave  him  what 
he  most  needed, —  an  answer  in  substance  if  not  in 
form :  and  if  he  was  satisfied,  no  one  else  can  find 
fault.  The  answer,  which  he  believed  himself  to  have 
received,  and  the  only  one  that  I  know  of  his  receiving, 
was  the  personal  discipline,  which  came  of  all  his  high 
aiming  and  walk  with  God.  Was  this  enough? 

I  am  sometimes  struck  with  a  sense  of  the  ludicrous, 
when  I  think  of  the  eccentric  wanderings  into  which 
Cephas'  wild  Shagbark  led  him.  I  ask, — What  is  the 
use?  Why  did  he  not,  if  he  wanted  anything  of  God, 
stay  at  home  and  obtain  it  like  a  Christian  man  upon 
his  knees  in  his  study?  Instead  of  this,  likely  enough, 
I  read  a  rough  pencil  note,  which  indicates  that  he 
went  out  upon  a  starlight  night  and  climbed  the  back 
of  an  abrupt  hill,  rugged  with  rocks,  uprooted  trees  and 
timber  fallen  criss-cross;  the  hill  being  surrounded 
by  deep  ravines  and  encircled  with  dark  mountains. 


CORONATION.  375 

Here,  perhaps,  he  ascended  a  towering  rock  to  watch 
the  meteors  as  they  streamed  through  the  heavens,  and 
to  pray  for  his  studies,  his  people,  distant  friends, 
far  countries  and  for  the  coming  generations  of  men. 
Then  descending  to  cross  a  raVine —  on  his  way  to  the 
place  commonly  called  home  —  he  had  to  feel  his  way 
very  carefully  with  shagbark  stick  to  find  firm  foothold ; 
passing  thus  several  hundred  feet  at  a  very  sharp  angle 
over  the  debris  of  fallen  ledges,  by  a  path  ill  defined 
and  torn  by  frequent  heavy  showers,  where  one  misstep 
might  have  been  well  nigh  fatal. 

I  ask, —  What  is  the  use?  I  am  more  impressed  by 
the  strangeness  of  his  conduct,  than  by  his  devotion. 
I  less  admire  his  intercession  than  wonder  that  this 
Wild  Man  did  not  break  his  neck.  To  him,  it  was  an 
hour  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Almighty ;  but  1  do  not 
recommend  others  to  try  it.  And  now  that  the  sea  has 
swallowed  him  up,  I  inquire  of  myself, —  What  came  of 
all  his  strivings  in  the  hours  of  solitude?  No  marvel 
ous  result  appeared  in  his  outer  life.  His  life  broke 
like  a  bubble  on  the  sea.  Was  his  the  prayer  of  faith, 
to  be  answered  in  some  future  time  unknown?  Was 
it  answer  enough,  that  his  soul  grew  nobler  day  by  day? 
Was  his  voice  no  more  than  the  wild  cry  of  a  buffeted 
sea  bird?  Were  his  hours  of  agony  or  ecstatic  joy 
merely  a  beautiful  display  of  the  devotional  spirit,  like 
the  white  flowers  of  the  sea  that  spring  and  blossom 
upon  the  crest  of  rising  waves  then  fall  and  fade  upon 
the  beach? 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Cephas  one  day,  "  God  will  not  give 


376  CORONATION. 

us  the  trivial  things  we  pray  for,  but  that  which  is  far 
better, —  patience,  the  development  of  faculties,  and 
eternity  for  the  use  of  powers  well  schooled  on  the 
earth.-" 

Who  shall  say  that  his  prayers  failed,  because  they 
did  not  exalt  him  to  a  life  of  fame  ?  Did  he  not  gain 
the  highest  life  possible  to  him?  Did  he  not  feel  as 
well  satisfied  in  his  course,  as  any  men  around  him 
about  the  success  of  their  common  employments  ? 

"  Miners,"  said  Cephas,  amid  California  gold  diggers, 
"go  to  the  top  of  all  these  high  hills,  and  prospect 
everywhere.  I  go  to  the  hill's  to  find  deep  closets  for 
communing  with  God.  These  prospect  holes  afford 
concealment  when  I  ply  the  pages  of  my  Testament. 
The  miners  often  dig  a  little  and  quit,  finding  nothing 
to  repay  them.  I  get  unrecorded  wealth,  infinite  store 
of  wisdom,  better  to  me  than  choicest  ore.  Here  is  an 
old  lode,  deep  cut,  long  worked  and  bereft  of  its 
treasures ;  I  find  it  still  rich  in  the  kind  of  wealth  most 
prized  in  the  heavenly  country  where  I  shall  soon 
travel." 

It  shall  make  no  difference  to  you,  reader,  whether  or 
not  the  wisdom  he  found  there  be  ever  printed  for  you 
in  vellum  and  gold,  so  long  as  he  himself  felt  satisfied 
with  it. 

"It  is  true,"  adds  Cephas,  "that  I  do  not  exhibit  all 
this  wonderful  wealth  to  my  neighbors ;  but  I  pore  over 
it  in  secret  places,  as  a  miser  over  his  coins.  If  I  have 
said  or  written  any  thing  useful,  I  dug  the  wisdom  out 
of  hill  tops,  in  the  stillness  of  mountain  valleys,  in  deep 


CORONATION.  377 

ravines  along  water  courses,  in  dark  forests,  among 
sands  of  the  seaside,  or  from  crags  on  the  coast.  The 
metal  bearing  mountains  — treasure  houses  of  gold  and 
silver  among  the  clouds — and  the  shores  of  two  seas 
have  been  sources  of  boundless  wealth  to  me ;  since 
everywhere  I  have  found  God  present  ready  to  illumi 
nate  my  darkness,  and  to  give  me  spiritual  gems  better 
than  the  traffic  of  commerce  and  the  jewels  of  eastern 
kings.  Glittering  stones  and  shining  gold  are  nothing 
to  me,  if  I  go  abroad  and  talk  with  Heaven's  King. 
Our  mountain  birds  are  rare,  but  when  upon  the  banks 
of  our  wild  rivers  I  open  the  Word,  the  Dove  of  God 
appears  as  in  old  times ;  and  I  seem  to  see  the  Son  of 
Man,  and  to  hear  the  voice  from  Heaven." 

I  am  led  to  feel  that  somehow  such  experiences 
brought  a  rich  reward  to  the  character  of  him  who  had 
them.  I  eannot  ask  whether  or  not  this  prayer  or  that 
was  answered,  for  I  am  persuaded  that  to  his  mind  all 
things  were  answered ;  he  was  satisfied  in  the  shining 
of  the  Light  of  life.  Perhaps  in  his  seeking  for  con 
stant  communion  with  God  such  as  the  angels  have, 
and  always  aiming  for  that,  he  was  content  with  the 
fame  he  might  look  for  in  heaven. 

"Here,"  says  Cephas  in  one  of  the  notes  I  came 
upon  a  few  days  ago,  "  is  a  South  African  missionary, 
who  has  a  reputation  among  his  savage  parishioners  for 
skill  in  making  three  legged  stools ;  and  they  know 
nothing  of  the  fame  for  scholarship  which  he  has  in  his 
own  country.  So,  if  we  ha^e  much  secret  converse 
with  God,  our  reputation  on  the  earth  will  be  always 


378  CORONATION. 

less  than  what  we  have  in  heaven  our  own  country. 
Our  best  qualities  are  better  known  there  than  here." 

I  must  ask  pardon  of  my  readers,  for  the  obtrusion 
upon  their  notice  of  this  Shagbark  habit  in  such  man 
ner  and  to  such  extent  in  this  account  of  Cephas'  life. 
I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  notes  on  this 
topic  which  I  have  found  among  his  papers  were  ever 
designed  to  see  the  light,  certainly  not  in  the  form  I 
have  used  them.  He  made  notes  on  his  experiences 
just  as  he  made  notes  on  books ;  he  used  them  in  ser 
mon  writing,  and  would  have  done  so  still  further  if  he 
had  been  spared  to  write  up  his  papers.  But  there  was 
nothing  egotistical  or  morbidly  self  conscious  in  his 
mind,  in  so  writing.  I  must  take  to  myself  the  blame, 
if  I  have  made  him  appear  at  disadvantage.  And  I 
must  also  warn  the  reader  that,  in  looking  over  what  I 
have  written,  I  find  I  have  idealised  this  part»of  his  life 
too  much. 

Certainly,  there  was  not,  in  this  respect,  any  peculiar 
sanctity  about  my  friend's  life  ;  or  if  there  was,  he  wist 
not  that  his  face  shone.  It  may  be  that  what  I  have 
written,  founded  upon  the  facts  in  Cephas'  life,  has 
been  too  strongly  put.  I  ought  to  say  frankly,  that  he 
was  too  much  alone  for  his  health ;  his  nerves  were  not 
always  able  to  bear  the  weight  of  care  and  joy  and 
intensity  of  experience,  which  characterized  these  lonely 
hours.  He  came  to  be  fully  conscious  of  this  ;  and  to 
some  extent  modified  his  course, —  turning  his  loved 
hours  of  communion  into  blissful  moments  for  a  time ; 
although,  to  the  end,  he  appears  to  have  found  the  God 


CORONA  TION.  379 

of  his  solitude  to  be  the  source  of  rest  and  his  Physi 
cian, —  as  well  as  One  to  whom  he  applied  for  the 
arousing  of  all  his  faculties,  and  for  the  moulding  of 
men  around  him. 

I  know,  however,  that,  in  spite  of  all  drawbacks,  the 
gladdest  hours  of  earth  to  him  were  found  in  his  long 
walks.  And, —  shall  I  confess  it, —  I  sometimes  wish 
I  could  have  such  joy  and  ecstasy  in  devotion  as  he 
had,  month  after  month  and  year  after  year.  Although 
I  can  myself  never  be  turned  from  my  habit  of  trying 
to  see  the  Saviour  face  to  face  in  my  own  study  at 
accustomed  hours  and  whenever  I  look  up,  yet  I 
believe  that  if  one's  study  is  out  of  doors  the  vision  of 
the  Master  may  become  more  vivid;  so  that  I  often 
imagine  myself  sitting  or  walking  with  my  books  in  the 
woods,  and  in  mental  pictures  I  pray  unto  God  in  the 
wildernes§.  My  own  personal  habits  I  find  it  difficult 
to  change,  and  each  month  I  am  more  wedded  to  my 
study  table  and  to  indoor  experiences.  Since  Cephas' 
death,  I  have  had  no  heart  to  walk  the  woods  as  I  used 
to  do. 

I  have  thought,  nevertheless,  that  some  younger  man 
may  be  led  to  do  what  I  cannot  do.  If  I  have  felt 
more  interest  in  this  part  of  my  story  of  Cephas' 
career  than  any  other,  it  is  because  I  desire  more  than 
anything  else  to  impart  to  some  one  by  this  account, 
an  irrepressible  purpose  to  walk  with  God  out  of  doors, 
some  hours  every  day ;  if  not^or  the  power  of  interces 
sion  or  the  growth  of  the  soul,  then  for  the  unutterable 
joy  of  it,  as  if  hours  of  heaven  could  be  found  in 


380  CORONA  TION. 

common  forest  paths  or  on  familiar  shores.  Homely 
pastures,  tame  hills,  tangled  with  scrubby  growth,  or 
monotonous  plains,  may  thus  rise  to  more  dignity  than 
the  Elysian  fields.  New  life  will  kindle  and  glow  in 
the  heart  of  every  one  who  will  take  some  hours  daily 
for  talking  over  all  hopes  and  fears  and  aspirations  and 
perplexities,  with  the  Son  of  Man. 

In  view  of  the  strange  ending  of  Cephas'  life,  cutting 
off  his  life  when  hardly  begun,  I  cannot  help  feel 
ing  that  perhaps  after  all  his  life  was  a  success,  inas 
much  as  he  learned  to  walk  with  God  ;  albeit  his  plans 
all  failed,  and  he  and  his  attempted  work  have  perished 
from  off  the  earth,  leaving  little  more  mark  than  one 
of  the  waves  that  washed  Salisbury  beach  last  flood 
tide.  I  look  gladly  on  this  Shagbark  stick  at  my  side, 
and  think  what  it  meant  to  him.  And  this  is  to  me  his 
most  precious  monument.  Some  days  I  bear  it  to 
the  sea;  and  look  out  on  the  waste  of  waters  which 
wash  and  roar  over  his  grave.  And  I  think  of  the 
dense  showers  of  tiny  shells  constantly  falling  upon 
the  sea's  bottom,  which  have  ere  this  covered  his 
frame :  or,  if  I  may  dare  to  dream  of  what  he  himself 
once  suggested,  I  imagine  that  new  vitality  has  been 
given  to  his  cold  clay,  since  it  has  become  incorpo 
rated  in  the  swift  bodies  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
waters.  I  am  sure  I  care  not,  as  he  cared  not,  for  the 
body.  I  look  upon  this  stout  staff  in  my  hand  as  the 
instrument  his  soul  use4  in  compelling  success  to 
crown  his  years.  A  record  of  efficient  work  in  training 
men  and  moulding  society,  and  the  record  of  thoughts 


CORONATION.  381 

which  may  instruct  after  ages,  do  not  make  up  a  suc 
cessful  life  if  the  soul  be  self  satisfied,  self  seeking,  and 
self  inspired.  If  I  could  carry  this  Shagbark,  all  other 
sceptres  might  be  taken  away;  for  I  believe  that  by 
this  I  could  win  the  highest  success  of  which  I  am 
capable.  Is  it  not  true,  that  to  take  the  Word  of  God, 
and  to  learn  from  it  how  to  prevail  in  prayer  and 
especially  in  intercession,  is  the  great  secret  of  all 
moral  power  ? 

The  true  CORONATION  of  life  is  found  in  our  personal 
discipline,  never  in  merely  doing  this  or  that.  The 
story  of  Cephas  is  that  of  an  obscure  man,  with  high 
aims  and  apparently  wise  means  of  gaining  them ;  he 
failed  largely  through  his  own  fault,  yet  he  won  life's 
battle.  The  ultimate  use  of  all  our  life  plans  is  that 
they  are  the  scaffolding  by  which  to  build  up  the  soul 
into  the  likeness  of  the  Perfect  Man.  Self  sacrifice  for 
others,  prayer  to  God,  submission  to  the  divine  will, — 
are  not  the  end  of  life ;  these  are  the  instruments  which 
God  bids  men  use,  as  if  they  were  all  and  in  all :  but 
the  CORONATION  is  found  in  the  perfected  soul  itself, 
a  spirit  made  fit  for  bearing  a  kingly  part  among  princi 
palities  and  powers.  The  true  power  of  him  who  is 
thus  perfected  consists  in  the  indwelling  of  those 
principles  of  life  which  characterized  the  Son  of  Man ; 
so  that  in  some  true  sense  Christ  is  the  CORONATION  of 
every  perfected  life. 

"Give  me  in  a  few  lines  directions  how  to  live," 
asked  the  English  detective  of  Cephas  in  the  last  con 
versation  they  ever  had. 


382  CORONA  TIOA'. 

These  were  the  words  written  in  answer, — "  To  gain 
good  sense  and  perfect  faith  is  enough.  To  know  how 
to  manage  one's  affairs  with  good  judgment  and  to  lead 
a  well  proportioned  life,  is  to  fulfil  well  the  earthly 
mission.  There  are  men  enough  who  know  how  to 
manage  money,  who  are  fools  in  their  neglect  of 
spiritual  interests.  To  make  wise  plans  for  worthy 
work  is  the  best  thing  for  a  manly  man  to  aim  for: 
if  this  is  done,  the  life  is  successful  whether  or  not  the 
plans  are  fulfilled. 

"  You  have  noticed  that  young  men  with  little  experi 
ence  in  life,  are  more  conscious  of  their  own  powers 
than  acquainted  with  the  powers  of  other  men  and  the 
conditions  of  work  in  this  world.  Their  energy  is, 
therefore,  better  developed  than  their  judgment;  so 
that  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  them  pushing  with  an 
amazing  force  for  heights  they  will  never  attain.  But 
if  they  form  hard  habits  of  toil,  and  live  by  faith  as 
well  as  works,  they  are  likely  to  obtain  that  personal 
discipline  which  is  true  success  in  life.  He  who  gives 
himself  wholly  to  the  work  of  gaining  those  elements 
of  character  which  truly  represent  the  divine  life,  is  in 
the  right  line  of  living.  This  does  not  require  much 
capital ;  and  one  place  is  as  good  as  another  to  do  this 
business  in." 

I  have  lately  visited  the  old  home  scenes,  where 
Cephas  and  I  were  boys  together.  The  pines  are 
growing  thick  in  the  pastures  where  we  once  played. 
The  lower  limbs  are  dying  and  dropping  as  the  trees 


CORONA  TION.  383 

grow  higher ;  so  die  the  ideas  and  habits  of  childhood 
as  we  rise  year  by  year  to  higher  manhood.  The  new 
growths  of  pine  in  their  turn,  drop  off  as  the  topmost 
boughs  seek  the  free  air  and  the  sunlight ;  so  we 
mourn  not  the  fall  of  aspirations  and  projects  once  the 
means  of  our  growth,  which  we  now  drop  off  like  the 
under  branches  of  thick  growing  pines.  Our  life  plans 
aid  our  growth  this  year  and  the  year  following ;  but  as 
we  get  our  heads  into  a  better  atmosphere,  we  forget 
the  dead  branches  below.  As  I  think  of  the  boyhood 
days,  it  seems  like  a  dream  that  such  a  lad  or  young 
man  ever  lived:  and  I  say  to  myself, —  There  never 
was  such  a  man  as  Cephas;  and  no  one  ever  lived 
such  a  life  as  I  have  fondly  seen  in  vision  when  I  have 
thought  of  him.  But  if  it  be  so,  it  is  a  profitable  dream 
to  have;  and  I  will  stand  to  it  as  true. 

Very  often,  when  I  am  walking  alane,  or  sitting  in 
my  house,  I  have  a  panoroma  of  surprising  beauty  sud 
denly  pass  before  my  eyes;  a  vision  of  snow-clad 
mountains  rising  high  in  the  sunlight,  with  forest  clad 
ravines  and  white  streams  dashing  down  their  rocky 
channels.  They  can  never  fade  from  my  mind;  and 
often  they  appear  to  me  unlooked  for,  like  sights  of 
some  celestial  country  in  which  I  once  dwelt  many 
days.  Range  on  range  they  rise,  like  a  wall  against 
the  sky.  I  ride  along  their  base.  I  am  hidden  within 
their  ravines.  I  ascend  one  of  the  outskirting  hills.  I 
behold  the  giant  peaks  near  at  hand.  Or  if  I  scale  the 
high  wall  of  the  Great  Range  itself,  I  find  myself  riding 
upon  the  topmost  wave  of  a  sea  of  mountains.  I  am 


384  CORONATION. 

glad  that  I  once  went  through  just  such  experiences, 
and  that  I  can  often  recall  those  wonderful  sights  in 
these  days  when  I  live  in  a  common  country.  So 
comes  to  my  mind,  again  and  again,  the  memory  of 
him  who  was  often  my  companion  amid  the  grandest 
scenes  in  nature ;  with  whom  I  walked  day  after  day 
in  the  mountains,  as  if  we  could  measure 

"  The  stony  girdle  of  the  world." 

One  picture  I  shall  never  forget.  The  white  pyra 
mids  of  the  Snowy  Range  in  winter  were  not  unfre- 
quently  seen  in  brilliant  sunlight,  when  all  the  rest  of 
the  landscape  was  darkened  with  clouds.  My  memory 
of  Cephas  stands  in  my  mind  in  perpetual  sunshine ; 
and  I  gaze  upon  it  when  clouds  and  darkness  over 
spread  everything  else.  He  who  was  my  good  genius 
while  he  lived,  still  stands  upon  the  earth ;  and  day  by 
day  I  find  myself  looking  that  way,  as  if  he  were  part 
of  the  natural  scenery  of  this  globe.  As  I  think  of  him 
today,  I  remember  a  rainbow  I  once  saw  in  the  moun 
tains.  One  foot  rose  from  a  deep  ravine,  the  other 
resting  high  on  a  mountain  side ;  and  the  sunlight  was 
shining  upon  a  mountain  top  under  the  height  of  the 
arch;  every  where  else  there  was  darkness  and  dense 
rain  pouring.  Deep  clouds  and  the  rain  are  now 
around  me ;  but  upon  my  friend  the  sunlight  is  shining 
today,  and  over  him  bends  the  arch  of  glory. 


THE  BOY  PETER.  385 


XXXIV. 
THE   BOY   PETER. 

I  AM  living  today  in  a  dream.  I  have  received  a 
water-soaked  diary  from  the  South  Seas.  Peter 
Spriggs  went  to  Australia,  and  engaged  in  active 
mission  work  in  the  colony.  And  he  perished  by 
wreck  in  a  cave,  just  as  I  dreamed  when  a  child.  An 
account  of  this  wreck  appeared  in  our  commercial 
papers  and  in  one  of  our  monthlies,  though  I  still  cling 
to  the  imagery  of  my  dream  as  the  more  authentic  ac 
count. 

But  this  boy  Peter  is  no  dream.  He  is  at  this 
moment  playing  with  my  boat  at  the  foot  of  the  garden. 
The  son  of  the  missionary  hopes  to  become  a  mission 
ary,  and  voyage  for  distant  countries.  He  is  fascinated 
with  everything  pertaining  to  the  sea.  Quite  aside 
from  Cephas  and  his  brother,  I  take  to  this  boy,  since 
he  is  just  like  me  in  this. 

The  endless  murmur  of  the  waters  never  died  out  of 
my  memory,  after  I  first  heard  it  upon  the  sands  of 
Ipswich  beach.  To  listen  at  night  to  the  sound  of  the 
surge  afar  off,  to  walk  all  day  on  the  wave-washed  shore 
amid  the  crash  of  billows,  made  a  visit  to  the  seaside 


386  THE  BOY  PETER. 

an  era  in  my  chilhood.  And  when  as  a  man,  I  had  a 
home  on  the  brink  of  the  ocean,  and  first  saw  the  waves 
in  a  storm  bursting  upon  the  coast  with  terrific  power ; 
and  looked  upon  the  shattered  ledges,  where  the  waves 
had  been  blasting  and  hewing  and  chipping  the  hard 
rocks  by  day  and  by  night  for  unnumbered  centuries ; 
or  when  I  went  inland,  and  heard  the  chambers  of  the 
woods  resound  with  the  regular  fall  of  the  waves  on  the 
unseen  beach, —  it  was  only  a  little  while  before  I 
found  myself  everywhere  searching  for  the  sea.  No 
prospect  from  hills  a  little  inland  was  perfect  without 
the  sight  or  the  sound  of  the  ocean.  I  came  to  be 
oppressed  with  the  silence  of  country  towns ;  they 
seemed  to  keep  perpetual  Sabbath.  At  home  I  was  on 
the  world's  highway  ;  and  though  there  was  no  con 
tinual  clatter  of  countless  carts,  there  was  the  unceas 
ing  plash  of  unnumbered  waves.  The  mirthful  ripple 
or  the  angry  roar  was  always  ringing  in  my  ears ;  and 
the  din  of  the  Atlantic  mingled  day  and  night  with  the 
voices  of  the  children,  and  was  heard  at  the  table,  or  in 
watches  by  the  sick  bed.  I  came  to  feel  that  the  sea 
was  part  of  my  household  :  and  when  I  journeyed  back 
from  the  coast  I  was  like  an  outcast  having  no  home,, 
wherever  I  might  lodge  or  wander. 

This  boy  Peter,  with  name  like  a  rock,  would  love  to 
stand  all  day  upon  a  rock  in  the  edge  of  the  sea  to 
help  do  battle  with  the  waves.  He  came  to  me  this 
morning,  to  read  with  sparkling  eyes  from  his  book: — 
"  The  sea  gods,  it  is  said,  quit  during  the  hours  of  dark 
ness  their  palaces  under  the  deep;  they  seat  them- 


THE  BOY  PETER.  387 

selves  on  promontories,  and  their  eyes  wander  over  the 
expanse  of  the  waves."  By  the  hour  together,  he 
delights  to  watch  from  some  height  the  greedy  waters 
encroach  upon  the  marshes,  till 

"  The  low  green  prairies  of  the  sea  " 

are  covered  by  the  advancing  tide.  And  he  is*  always 
finding  some  new  phrase  from  his  Homer  to  picture  the 
sea.  Yesterday,  it  was 

"  The  silver  ensigns  of  his  waves, — " 

making  Xanthus  represent  the  white  caps,  when  the 
wind  stirs  up  the  sea.  When  he  sees  schools  of  fish 
ruffling  the  water  along  shore ;  or  looks  upon  a  gull 
floating  far  above  us,  then  descending  to  rest  with 

"  His  heart  upon  the  heart  of  ocean, 
*  *  learning  all  its  mystic  motion, 
And  throbbing  to  the  throbbing  sea," — 

he  feels  that  he  himself  must  leap  into  the  tide,  and 
struggle  with  the  blinding  billows  on  the  beach ;  or  he 
will  dive  from  our  boat — when  sledge-like  blows  of 
heavy  waves  are  striking  against  us  —  and  buffet  with 
the  briny  crests,  "  ever  climbing  up  the  climbing 
wave." 

Not  yet  does  he  know  the  dark  tragedies  of  the  sea, 
not  yet  has  he  read  the  record  of  his  own  drawing  forth 
from  the  waters.  The  sea  is  a  robber  and  full  of 


388  THE  BOY  PETER. 

graves.  English  Helen's  death  was  hastened  by  long 
pounding  on  the  bar  in  a  storm  at  the  mouth  of  an 
English  harbor.  Cephas,  and  his  brother,  and  the 
brother's  wife  so  like  the  first  Helen,  were  the  victims 
of  the  sea.  The  grave  of  Helen  on  the  Island  Home 
has  been  almost  swept  into  the  ocean.  The  mighty 
waves  have,  in  these  last  years,  broken  through  a  thin 
barrier  of  rock  and  found  an  approach  to  the  cliff 
where  her  body  lies,  and  have  torn  out  the  soil;  and 
now  "the  foaming  tusks  of  the  sea"  are  goring  the 
rocks  at  the  base  of  the  crag. 

So  find  I  the  sea  mingling  with  my  affairs,  as  if  it 
were  one  of  the  characters  of  this  story;  an  instrument 
in  moulding  the  spiritual  nature  of  men  and  shaping 
their  destiny :  rather,  these  incidents,  which  are  so 
much  to  me,  form  a  minute  part  of  the  grand  story  of  the 
sea.  With  the  domestic  affairs  of  how  many  households 
has  the  sea  mingled  age  after  age :  the  fate  of  nations 
has  been  like  a  drop  in  a  bucket,  when  the  surging  deep 
has  lifted  up  its  voice  to  utter  the  mandate  of  God; 
armies  and  navies  have  been  tossed  about  like  toys, 
by  no  will  of  their  own.  So  stand  we  in  relation  to  the 
eternal  ages  and  God's  great  plan  of  governing  the 
universe ;  the  sea  is  a  symbol  of  the  Infinite  Power  in 
His  relation  to  us,  loving,  consoling,  bereaving, —  and 
opening  to  us  the  hopes  of  future  ages  and  a  career 
worthy  the  human  soul.  This  sea  itself  is  nothing, 
we  make  paper  boats;  but  we  are  preparing  for  the 
grander  scenes. 

Looking  from  my  window,  I  see  a  long  absent  ship 


THE  BOY  PETER.  389 

coming  into  the  home  harbor;  she  has  rounded  to,  the 
sails  are  shivering;  how  soon  will  all  disembark, —  and 
how  soon  will  all  sail  in  unseen  ships  for  a  new  coun 
try.  To  voyage  for  the  unknown  regions,  to  participate 
in  a  life  concerning  which  we  know  in  part,  to  learn 
more  of  the  Infinite  Friend  under  His  own  guiding, — 
this  is  the  unspeakable  boon  of  life,  to  enter  into  life 
everlasting;  where  all  earthly  friendships  which  have 
been  worthy  that  name  will  find  new  felicity,  without 
disease  or  death  or  sin. 


TJ2TI7IRSITT] 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


— * 


REC'O   ;~ 


il 


